I was of course nervous for my first visit to Mom at the facility. She had been so reluctant walking in and had always expressed opposition to the inevitable move.
But I was pleasantly surprised. Mom was in a good mood. We sat together and chatted in our usual way of some sense and some nonsense. And then, out of the blue, Mom corrected my grammar in her best imperious schoolteacher tone.
And suddenly all felt right with the world. Mom was herself, we were connecting and we were both okay.
It amazes me these glimpses of Mom as she always was. She is still herself underneath all the messiness in her brain.
But to update, now it has been a couple of weeks and things are good. Mom has some particular buddies at the facility. She knows which room is hers. And one tired daughter gets to go out at night again!