To MFASRF: Wow! Sorry to hear about your dad's broken hip!
    Must be something in the "air" affecting old people. I'm glad he has family to look after him, and especially glad he has someone new to whom to tell his stories. Actually, the story about he and his companion, the country "from sea to shining sea" and a '32 Chevy with a rumble seat sounds interesting; although I know what it's like to hear those stories over and over. Reminds me of my grandfather on my mother's side. He had plenty of stories to tell, too. I'd heard them all, when we visited them in the states on vacation every three years ad infinitum, by the time I was between the 6th and 7th grade. He'd always begin with, "Stop me if you've heard this one..."
    That year, I had the temerity to take him seriously.
    His reply? "Well, you're going to hear it again!"
    I actually like my mother's stories, despite hearing them a lot. Occasionally she comes up with a new one; sometimes she forgets I am her daughter and I'm featured in one that occurred long before I was born. I only correct her perception of me having been "there" if she forgets details and asks me to provide them, although, sometimes, I know the details she can't remember. What I like most about hearing her stories, now, is that she seems to be reliving them, and she had many, many life episodes that would be entertaining to relive. Her sleep dreams, too, now, (which she remembers much better and much more often than I remember my dreams) are also interesting. Nothing happens in them, anymore. She just visits with people she used to know and catches up on their lives (even though most of them are dead), or eats her favorite foods (she eats lots of pancakes in her dreams, I've noticed).
    I hope your father mends well. Broken hips can be a bitch at that age. My mother's lucky that hasn't happened to her.
    Catch up on your life and when you think you've got hold of it again let me know how you, and your dad, are doing. I'll be here, my mother's Morpheus, trying to rock her smoothly enough so she has only pancake-sweet dreams.
- posted by gail rae @ 23:05  0 comments   email...this post

 
To MFASRF: An Update
    It will be a lot shorter than my last e, I promise; an emotional update.
    A friend of mine decided to drive me up to Prescott today so I wouldn't have to use the shuttles to bring the truck down and semi-close down the house. This time, the trip was quite strange (compliments, as always, of Neil Young). I didn't want to leave Prescott. I remember being ambivalent about leaving last year and waiting until the day before Thanksgiving. I also remember that it was easy, very easy for my mother to linger here in the Valley. I am sure she was getting weaker, down here.
    Anyway, the place I really hate to leave is Prescott. As the afternoon progressed I continued thinking of people I should call one last time (although I'll probably be going up there next week, too, and again before October 26th). Then, I had to get coffee on the way out. Then, I had something else to do...oh, yeah, check the air pressure in my tires...
    On the way down the slope I thought, graphically, about my mother, reviewed her last several months and realized that she is now in a phase of her life where everything is 3 steps back, two steps forward, or, sometimes, one. I thought of this in connection with the last e I wrote you, which I remembered, as I was driving, as relentlessly (or, may, desperately) optimistic (at least, for me, as much as I am capable of optimism in any situation). The heart of the truth is that each time she recovers, she recovers a bit less. I thought about your brother, too, and realized his death was completely different than my mother's is going to be. I wondered, if, as the years go by, we experience other people's deaths, those close to us, even when we are children, and that is how we go about "chosing" our own deaths. I wondered if your brother ever contemplated a drawn out old age, dying almost by selection, and decided, "Nah, not for me." Or, has my mother ever thought, "Well, I like it here, I think I'll stay as long as I can hang on, regardless of what happens. I can handle old age. It's not so bad."
    I don't, by the way, have a choice, at the moment, as I did a mere year or so ago. I know that as I watch my mother die of old age, watch her endure the physical discomforts and mental indulgences that her life-style has dictated (which aren't all that bad, really), I become more and more accepting of growing very old. Depending on one's outlook, it's not so bad. She is beyond happy, in a very removed way. "...resigned in the best sense of the word." Resignation happens on a physical and emotional level, as well as on a mental level, as one ages. It's very interesting to watch.
    Although I have, in the last few weeks, within hours of her "Alternative Level of Consciousness Episode", decided, once again, that she has it in her to hang on another 4 or 5 years, I realized today that there is also the possibility that she will never see Prescott, again, which would be less, probably much less, than 4 or 5 years. I think I am getting the sense that she has not decided. These last few physical steps back have been rather unpleasant for her and very, very draining. I think she is wondering how much more she cares to take. I hope I can modify her medical treatment, as we continue, so that she is comfortable with whatever she decides, as she pursues her decision.
    She just woke up. I noticed that she has probably slept most of the day. I wonder how she's doing. I'll keep you posted, as I can. Although the intensity has risen by powers recently, the rising of the intensity of her care has been magnifying very rapidly in the last several months. I know you are aware that I involve myself minutely and ambitiously to the task at hand, and even just from a contemplative point of view, my mother has taken much of my time in the last several months. You will hear from me again, I'm not sure when.
    I hope you're doing, well, hmmm, well, of course I do. I was just wondering about you, today, on the drive. I do love that area, and the drive. Too dry for me but I could do much worse than to end up living in that house for several years, up there, in that area, with that property. I could forego Seattle, for awhile, after my mother's death, for that area, that community, those friends, if the house should happen to fall into my hands.
- posted by gail rae @ 17:31  0 comments   email...this post