So, I had a list of errands to do yesterday. Target. Bed Bath and Beyond. Michael’s. Staples. A relatively normal list of stores to run through on a Sunday afternoon.
And yet, halfway through the third store, the heaviness started to sink in. The shopping trip was to pick up items to make Mom’s room at the new facility a little nicer or more organized. On my list: a label maker to mark her belongings. A couple more pairs of pants that fit to be sure she has enough clothes between laundry loads. A cheap wall hanging picture frame that will hold several family photos on her wall. A set of pretty sheets to fit a twin bed.
If you have been reading this blog for a while now, you will know that I have procrastinated this day. But it’s arriving and I am trying to be prepared.
Buying the stuff of course is the easy part of the preparation. Accepting that I will henceforth see Mom in a small locked facility and that she will likely end her life in such a place is a whole other thing to prepare for. I know I am not ready. This feels too much to be the beginning of the end. And who among us are ready to accept the end? Who is ready to drop off the person who loved you and supported you, and say, these strangers will care for you now?
I do not regret the decision, but I regret the circumstances that bring me here. It saddens me that we don’t know how to do better. And that my life circumstances are such that I cannot do more.
So, I buy soft new sheets and fake flowers to decorate Mom’s new room. At least my once upon a time an interior designer mother will see some beauty in this increasing isolation.