I swore bandaged, broken hearts Tie o’ the Day to secrecy, but now we can tell you. Our little trip to St. George this week has been a secret mission. We didn’t want to say anything until the process was completed, but we hereby announce that we’ve packed up Mom and taken her back to Delta, where she will live out her next century in the Care Center. (It’s official name is different, but everybody refers to it as either the Care Center or Extended Care.)
Our family has seen it coming. We’ve worked hard to take good care of Mom for as long as we could. We wanted to keep this day from coming. Although we know it’s finally time for this, it’s still a hard transition for us and for Mom to make. It’s the beginning of Mom’s last chapter.
After she broke her hip last year, the best place for Mom to recover was with my brother, Ron and Marie, in St. George. Marie is the Queen Bee o’ All Nurses, and Mom’s doctors are in Dixie. Mom’s been pleased to live with Ron, and she was able to spend more time with her grandkids there. Ron and Marie have been more than generous to have her in their home. Ron says it has been a privilege to have Mom with them. We appreciate Ron and Marie more than words can hold. But now it is time for Mom to make her final move to a new residence.
About three years ago, Mom decided it was time to quit driving. She handed over her car keys without being asked for them. Of course, we had all been ever so subliminally hinting to her for quite a while that it would be a good idea to let the driving part of her life be done, for the safety of everyone involved. And then one day, out of the blue, she came up with the idea to give up her car keys. It was HER idea. Wink. wink.
That’s what’s been happening with this move. We’ve all hinted and hinted to her for a few months that it’s time for this change, and then VOILA! Suddenly, Mom had this brilliant idea that she should move into the care center. It was completely HER idea.
She’s been a good sport through her last couple of years of health adventures, although things have been bumpy at times– as is to be expected. She has missed her house. She has missed her Delta friends and family, and she is eager to reacquaint herself with her Delta people now. (But she will always be a bit lost in Delta without Dad, and without her best friend, Peggy Crane.) I know most of you are part of the herd o’ folks she has missed.
Give Mom some time to get adjusted in her new digs, and then feel free to give her a visit for a few minutes every now and again, if you so desire. You know how she loves to chat with her friends. You’ll most likely need to introduce yourself to her at first, but she’ll know who you are after that. She turned 88 last week, so she has 88 years worth of friends and family to recall, and that’s a lot of names and faces to keep straight.
She’s still spunky and irreverent in her playful way. And what makes our family happy is that she still enjoys her life. She exudes gratitude for her blessings– which, of course, she thinks of as all of us. Isn’t that a nice thought? My mom, Helen A. Wright, thinks of you as one of her life’s blessings.
And now, Suzanne’s going to drive us home to Centerville while I cry and wonder if we did the right thing for Mom. Which we did. But still…
Hardest. Day. Ever.