Mother’s Day

I vis­it­ed my 98-year old moth­er yes­ter­day. She lives in a nurs­ing home and is very well cared for. She has a love­ly room to her­self with pic­tures and books and mem­o­ra­bil­ia to sur­round her. When we arrived she was nap­ping and when she saw it was me she said after a few moments, “Get me out of this place.” Accord­ing to the nurs­es, it is some­thing she says everyday.

Despite the strokes and prob­lems with her speech and the for­get­ful­ness nat­ur­al to her age, she is present as always, sweet and lov­ing, want­i­ng to smile and poke fun. My wife and I, attempt­ing to com­ply with her wish, took her in her wheel­chair out­side to a small court­yard filled with rhodo­den­drons and trans­plant­ed moun­tain spruce. Nobody else came by, and there was only the sound of a door open­ing some­where and the occa­sion­al talk of the near­by kitchen crew prepar­ing din­ner to briefly inter­rupt the qui­et. “This is a nice place,” she said to me. “I’ve nev­er been here before.”

The air was thick with new scents, bright and clear. She touched her face to feel the sun on it and point­ed with her fin­ger at the swal­lows dart­ing above us against the white clouds and hazy blue sky. There was a cir­cle around the sun. I plucked a pink blos­som from one of the rhodo­den­drons and gave it to her to smell. She put it up to her face and smiled for the cam­era just as a cloud came by.

It was an hon­or to sit with her there, enjoy­ing the Spring togeth­er. The air was emp­ty and sweet. It was good to see that warm light in her eyes and to hold her hand.

[I can’t believe I post­ed this and for­got this part: As we were wheel­ing my moth­er down the hall­way toward the door to the court­yard anoth­er res­i­dent passed by.

“Is that your moth­er?” she asked. I nod­ded. And as we passed: “She’s beau­ti­ful!”]

Technorati Tags: Love and Radiance. Link to blog posting. Link to Oestreich Associates website.