A Defining Moment

           With all that I’ve shared over the past several dozen blogs, I have danced around, as we all do, one of the main questions that none of us who are caring for an aging loved-one ever wants to face: “What will I do if I think Mom is no longer able to live alone and care for herself?”  I pray you never reach that moment or, if you do, you reach it with your aging parent’s participation.

           With my mom, we are facing that ever-increasingly obvious question. We are trying valiantly to allow Mom to stay where she is comfortable, where she wants to be. At home. I figured that it has been forty-eight years since she and my late father moved all five of us into the new, all brick house. What a treasure it was. New walls, new floors and a two-car garage as the lowest portion of our split-level home. It was paradise.
       
    And Mom still sees it as paradise. She grew up in the depression where, as she has said, “If we ate chicken for dinner it was only because earlier that day we had cut its off its head  and plucked its feathers.” The good old days weren’t all good. Mom sees this house as the culmination of what she and my father worked so hard for. Where she wanted to live. And where she wants to die.
       
    So when she pointed to the closed door of one of the rooms of the house where she has lived for nearly half a century and said “What’s in there?” I knew it was time to start facing the hard question.  So my brothers and I are taking steps, again, to have someone come in to help Mom stay in the house. We are doing all we can within our means to allow her to stay. Only time will show if we are making the right decision.