Topic: Nostalgia
My sister and I were in the dining room, and mom was telling us something as she walked through the room...and into the hall and vanished into the bathroom, stopping speaking mid-thought as the door closed behind her! My sister and I exchanged a look and burst out laughing. When mom emerged, she didn't recall what she was saying and didn't realize she's stopped midsentence!
That's one of my most vivid memories about my mother, from sometime around my early 20s. And while I haven't thought about it for a long time, the memory strikes home now because mom's in a nursing home and will probably never going back to her own home. A few months shy of 80 she's mentally slipped a rail, and what was a memorable comic moment from 20 years ago is what she lives today.
Memory's a funny thing. These days mom frequently doesn't even recognize her granddaughters, and certainly can't remember when she saw me last. Conversation's almost impossible because she forgets what's she's saying midway through a sentence. It's like she's walking into that bathroom every 30 seconds, but without the comical touch of the door closing and the symbolism one can attach to flushing one's thoughts down the loo.
Mom's a few weeks into a nursing home now. I spent 5 days with her at the beginning of the month and found that the one thing we could converse about were old family photos from Italy that I brought to her. So, while she can't remember my brother's name when she sees his picture, she can recall names and trivia about people seen in sepiaed photographs from before she was born. I treasure these little moments because when I talk to her about these things, those are the only remnants of real conversations I can have with her. One day she told me about the hat shop where her mother worked, and how Mrs. Macola, the owner was called "Americana" because she was born in America. It's humbling that she remembers Mrs. Macola's name but probably not mine.
Admittedly, it can be comical when she insists that "if the air comes from the television, then the fire..." or says that she married my father in 1991 instead of 1961. But it's sad for me look into the eyes of this woman I've known my whole life and realize she's halfway out the door.
Or is it halfway into the bathroom?
Posted by molyneaux
at 12:50 AM PDT
Updated: Tuesday, 19 May 2009 11:46 PM PDT
