.
.
.
After I returned to Arizona in May, I took time to just be. There was so much to process. It was still a beautiful time in the desert and I immersed myself in the garden. I thought so much about my mom being in a new place. My heart ached for her, but knew there was no other choice. It’s always hard to leave her, never knowing if it’ll be the last time. She has no quality of life and I often hope there won’t be a next time. I know that sounds horrible, but it’s the truth. It’s all so hard. I put myself in her shoes and oh how I never want to fill them at the end of my life. My father figured it out, even with his Alzheimer’s disease he knew his only way out of that godforsaken care center was to quit eating and he did. Mom hasn’t yet figured that out or is too scared. I don’t know which one.
.
.
The house closed the first week of June and I was officially done with trying to keep a 4,000 square foot home, a private drive, and five acres in working order. I had grown to hate going home over the past two years. It was no longer “home” with all the 24-hour caregivers, bath aides and nurses coming and going. Her home had turned into a nursing home with all the issues that go along with one. On a positive note, perhaps it was the universe making it easier for me to let go when the time did come. Over the past two years, the caregivers had ruined so much in her home…the carpet, furniture, even the spoons in the set of flatware disappeared. I guess it was easier to trash it than to wash it. There was only one regular spoon remaining in an eight place setting when I cleaned out the drawer in her kitchen.
.
.
Of course there’s a sadness with the sale of the farm, but so much of the stress was immediately lifted and it had an immediate impact. I felt lighter and mentally healthier even though I knew there would be another set of issues that would come tumbling in having a loved one in a nursing facility. Time has already proven that’s the case. I’m returning to Virginia at the end of the month to visit my mom. I’m sure I’ll have stories to tell.
.
.
I’m slowly working to put life back into my blog. I’ll post here for my own personal fulfillment, as well as a release. It’ll be my own diary of sorts as I navigate my own aging process, as well as documenting lessons learned during the final chapters of my parents’ life journey.
.
.
I’m so happy your blogging again. I can say first hand that it has proven to be a great way of processing my thoughts, and once processed, it makes it so much easier to release whatever pain, anger, stress, etc. I might be feeling inside. It also serves as a great way of sharing our own personal experiences with others who might find something that might help them along in their journey through this life. I’m happy to hear that you have found some stress relief from the sale of the family home, and that you have had some time of peace in our beautiful Arizona desert. You’re doing a great job managing all that has been put on your plate… I keep you always in my thoughts and prayers, and I’m always here for you. Love you, XoXo
Oh, thank you so much. I so agree with you that writing can allow us to release all kinds of feelings and emotions. I think that’s a big reason for me and it’s also knowing that writing helps improve cognitive functioning which is very important to me as I age. I want to write more about that soon. I’ve been listening to several podcasts and reading lots of articles that describe all kinds of benefits to writing. I think it’s much bigger in benefits than I ever imagined. So thanks for following along and as always THANKS for your SUPPORT. I always know you are here for me and that means the world to me. Love you. xoxo❤️
Oh, sweet friend … I, too, am needing and wanting to start taking care of my blog, it has been on my mind for a week or so and I found you here, just as it should be. I have wondered what the situation was with your mom and the farm since it’s been awhile, so heartbreaking to know you both are going through this. There is just no easy way around this aging/living thing, is there?
Keep putting your words and thoughts on your page, keep taking your special photos and try to keep the faith.
xoxo
Thank you sweet girl. Yes, it’s been a long haul and it isn’t over yet. Sigh. The final chapter is the pits for sure. xoxo
I love that b&w photo of spoons and forks, Robin, it somehow tells a little part of your story, …
.. and wish you to have enough strength for everything you need to manage. Warmest regards! xo
Yes, that photo says it all. If you notice there is only one regular spoon left. The other types spoons are for stirring iced tea. It was just amazing to watch how they destroyed so many things in her home. I took the image right before I packed the drawer up for my sister to take to her new home. I ask for strength every single day on the new journey with dealing with a nursing facility…and I’d would never wish this journey on anyone even though I know there are many going through the same. Thanks always for your comments! xo
Oh friend I am in such a similar situation in many ways. With my mom. Quality of life so severely diminished but unwilling to let go.
The fight goes on and it’s hard to watch. Hard to see. Hard to try and remain present with her. Just hard. I send warm understanding hugs.
Your world and life are a beauty; thank you for sharing them with us.
I am richer for it.
– Jennifer
Dear Dear Robin, Just by accident I came across your blog, still sitting in the toolbar, easy to exces. I am so happy that the farm is sold and you know what I mean with “happy”. It hurts, it sure hurts to close that chapter of your life. “Every body wants to grow old, but being old is not always nice”……. we all know that.
Also knowing that your mom is still living, I don’t even dare to use the word “alive”, you are still in the emotional mill that controls part of your life and emotion. There is no knob to shut off the feelings, for you care. For you I do hope that your mom will soon go to sleep and never wakes up. She will be in a better place and so will you and don’t we all wish that for you. And we all know that you love your mom.
Hang in there, Robin. I am so glad that you have this blog to write down your story, sometimes it helps to put down the words and have something to fall back on after the last chapter closes too……
Love and best wishes and know you are in our thoughts.
Thank God Astrid found your blog today, Robin, because now I, too, have caught up on your last two posts…and have NOW subscribed to your blog so that I never miss another post from you (which I thought I had already done). Our hearts really do break for you and all the others who travel this long and torturous road at “end of life” challenges with parents. I never had to go through such torment as you have described in your posts. and can only imagine what it has been like for you. It breaks my heart.
In the meantime, your art flourishes in ways that are far beyond inspirational. I would never want to say all your torment has been worth it for your art. NEVER. But it all feels like a movie in the making that will somehow help others take this journey in a less crazy/stressful way…because of you. I look forward to the release of “everytthing else” that is yet to surface. Get it all out…and we will be your Cloud of Witnesses, cheering you on. One day you will be “free at last.”