Catching up - Call to Mom's cousin-in-law
    About a month ago Mom's cousin-in-law wrote a letter addressed to both Mom and me asking why she hadn't heard from us in so long. In the letter it was apparent that she'd allowed the worst of her imaginings to take hold and expressed her fear that Mom had become one of the elderly infirm who was no longer capable of remembering family, let alone contacting them.
    The truth is, neither of us is particularly good at keeping up with the relatives (one of the reasons I began this journal). But, finally, last weekend, I called this cousin-in-law while Mom was napping to let her know how we are.
    She and I had a brief conversation in which she let me know she turned 90 this year and, when I asked her how she was, she told me, "Being 90 is no fun." It's interesting to me how Mom's family states this without embarrassment and yet continues, with stalwart heart, moving on down the road. I like that while all of them are proud of their longevity they pull no punches about the quality of life on that road.
    She asked me to have Mom call back in an hour when she'd be able to get a direct cousin and her husband, who also live in Mechanicsville, over to her house and on the phone.
    I didn't pick up the other line during that call and I'm glad I didn't. As soon as Mom heard her cousin-in-law's voice some extraordinary changes took place. Her voice took on the rich, ironic, jaunty tone that I've always associated with her conversations with her related peers. Her posture straightened. Her eyes lit. Questions and answers and laughter were shot rapid-fire over the lines toward her links with what I imagine to be her most treasured part of herself. It was a delight to listen to and watch.
    Some of her responses to these relatives:

• "Oh, 100 percent!" (I'm sure this was in response to an enquiry about how she is.)
• "Busy, busy, busy!" (I was amused to hear that Mom feels her life is busy...and, from her perspective, especially lately, it probably is.)
• "Yes, but, what do doctors know?" (I loved this one...it is typical of the members of her family, even when helped by medicine, to assume that it isn't the doctors or the pills or the procedures that are responsible for their longevity, but their own nerve and verve.)

    There were questions about people I don't know. Apparently a few more old friends have died...it sounded like it, but Mom's responses to these tidbits were typically (for her family) accepting.
    Toward the end of the conversation Mom said, several times, "I don't remember them," or, "I only knew her slightly when I was in school (meaning high school), or "That name doesn't sound familiar...oh, well, they must not have been worth remembering," followed by a wry laugh.
    When the conversation ended, Mom switched back to her living-with-Gail-far-from-old-relatives mode, and my heart fell a bit.

    I'm wondering, now, if, somehow, someday, soon, she and I can manage a trip to Mechanicsville to see these people. It doesn't sound like they are up for traveling anymore, even though the blood cousin and her husband still traipse back and forth between Hot Springs, SD, and Mechanicsville, IA, despite them having a couple of years on Mom. Although it was my goal, before the call, to get her health stabilized to the point of being able to handle more activity without the possibility of a health crisis, she has, over the last few years, not wanted to travel, and I've respected this. I'm thinking that regular contact with those people in her life who have known her longest and know her best might be a likely way to encourage her to look forward to the rigors of travel, again.
    At any rate, two nights ago Mom once again brought up the subject of "taking a drive out to Mechanicsville; it's only about 15 minutes away."
    This time, because I am now seriously considering the possibility, I decided to get out the map, show Mom exactly where Mechanicsville is in relation to us and talk up the possibility of taking this trip. This time Mom understood the reality of the distance and time involved and her interest flagged a bit, but I didn't allow that to continue. "Mom, when you're feeling better we can do this. I know we can. It may be some months down the road, but I think we can do this."
    "Well, you may be right..." she didn't sound convinced.
    I'd like to make it happen. I'm even wondering, if the visit goes well and she seems very comfortable among her peers, that it might not be hitting out of the park to consider a move closer to everyone. I mentioned this to her and she seemed enthusiastic. I'm not sure if this is a pie-in-the-sky idea, time will tell, but I cannot dismiss the extraordinary change in her demeanor that happened from simply talking to her long-long time loved ones.
    At the very least, I'm going to see to it that she keeps in close phone touch with these people. I can see, now, how important it is to her life and her sense of herself. One way or another, I intend to make sure that those people who are part of the fundament of who my mother is become a frequent part of my mother's life, again.
- posted by gail rae @ 10:24   email...this post