There are many marathons in our lives. Some we run and some we watch.
Natasha lives in Boston. Calling it her favorite day of the year, she was primed to watch it. Mary Grace lives in New Jersey. Having qualified and trained, she was primed to run it.
They are cousins. They are my nieces. This year’s Boston Marathon was extra special for our family. Read more
(Time Period: Within the last ten months of my mother’s life, under hospice care.)
Dinner was about to be served and it was time to wrap up our visit. As Jess and I were on our way out, we turned to see Gabriel wheeling Mom to the head of the table. Rather than transfer her to the dining room chairs, it was better – safer and less of a fall risk – to have her stay in the wheelchair now. Today Mom was smiling, her appetite was good and she had the energy to hold herself up for a meal with the group. It was more common, however, to find her leaning to one side, no matter how much the caregivers repositioned her or propped her up with pillows. That Mom might slide out of the chair was a constant concern.
Jess unlocked the car door and suggested we head directly to a store to find a makeshift seatbelt. We drove to REI (the outdoor sports equipment store) in search of a solution. It didn’t dawn on us that these wheelchair accessories are readily available online or at medical supply stores. Read more
(Time Period: About two years after moving to the care home.)
Gabriel answered the door with a warm smile. As he walked me into the family room, he gave me the report: “Grace had a restless night.”
Though she could no longer walk on her own, Mom often managed to get herself out of bed and while seated on the floor, to “scooch” around the room. On this particular night, Gabriel and Angela had checked on her and found her sorting through the stack of shoe boxes on the floor of her closet. Various bureau drawers were open with clothes spilling over the edges. Mom looked up at Gabriel and put her forefinger to her lips: “Shh.” Read more
It was a few days before my birthday in early December 2009, and a card from my parents had just arrived in the mail. Mom’s Alzheimer’s symptoms were still subtle at that time. Previously she would have written “Dear Ginny” and “Love Mom and Dad.” In this card, however, there were only three words: Shine, Ginny, Shine. I was immediately struck by the coincidence in that I had just selected my theme for the upcoming year: Shine. Though I hadn’t shared that with her, somehow my mother had known what to affirm. It wasn’t the first time. Read more
Yesterday a friend told me about an event she attended where Michael J. Fox was a keynote speaker. He shared a story about how when he was in high school his “nanna” told him he’d be successful in the field of acting. Michael’s nanna was known to be right about such predictions so it was her certainty that caused his family to be supportive and bolstered his confidence in becoming an actor. Read more
I’m thirteen years old and sitting at the kitchen table with my friend, Luisa. Opened textbooks and library books surround us. It’s dark outside and dinner time is fast approaching on a winter weekday afternoon. The smell of baked potatoes in the oven permeates, as my mother begins to prepare tonight’s meal. She hears our intermittent groans and senses our trepidation at the size of the project. Read more