This is my 100th post. It’s also the day that I move my mom out of her sweet little condo into an assisted living community.
It’s taken months of anxiety and planning to actually get here, to this moving day.
You would think that after today the worst is over. She’ll be in a safe, beautiful environment, she’ll have people to interact with and 24 hour caregivers in case of emergency.
But today isn’t the worst day. I’m dreading tomorrow. I’m afraid she’ll wake up and not remember where she is or how she got there. I’m afraid she’s going to think I abandoned her. I’m afraid she’s going to call me in the middle of the night and ask to go home.
I’ve lived this before, with my Dad, when he was dying. The hardest thing I’ve ever done until today is tell my dad that he couldn’t go home. I rushed over to the nursing home in the middle of the night to sit with him as he begged me to take him home. And as I explained to him that I couldn’t provide him with the care and the pain killers that he needed to be comfortable, all I could see was a frightened little boy. I did my best to comfort him and get him to relax enough so he could go to sleep, but it was awful.
I know that her dementia is going to progress. I know there will be a time when she won’t remember who I am or recognize her grandchildren’s faces. Worrying about the future isn’t going to change the outcome.
What I do have is the present moment. I have this time, right now, to show her how much I love her and hand the rest over to God.