Mourning

For all those among you, who know me a little better, know that I had to move my mother into a nursing home. I am having my thoughts about it, and I would like to share them with you...

Before

The process itself wasn't that hard to do, as I know that I have tried my very best to keep her in her own home for as long as possible. My aunt would've placed her sister into a home five years ago, so I dare say that I did a good job, letting my mother be independent for as long as I could, as she could. Now, she began being a risk for herself, to an extent where the court said that she is in danger of killing herself even (!).

Cellar

Except all the precautions we took, she STILL ended up 'taking the wrong turn' until one day she even took a walk on the highway, and police picking her up, bringing her back home.
She would need proper 24/7 care that I could and can NOT provide, as I am chronically ill myself, and I have to pace myself.

Storage room

So I picked her a nice home for dement people, and as it looks like it will get paid at least partially, whithout completely ruining me. Despite the electronic tag, she 'ran away' three times in an eight week period there already, and that in a 'sheltered' environment, as they call it.

 

Hallway

Things begin to unfold the way they should, but very slowly, and it takes a lot of adjustment on all sides! We will continue to observe, and do what's best for her.

 

Livingroom (divided into three rooms)

Bedroom

Dining room

In the meantime I had to cancel her renting contract, give away furniture, throw away things, have the apartment of hers renovated, and finally scrub and wash and clean out every tiny thing, until ultimately I could turn in the keys yesterday. Not without conflicts with her former landlady, who refused to pay back rent money, and so on and so forth.
 

Kitchen

Coming to think about this whole ordeal, it dawned on me, that this is somehow as if she's passed away already, and it's the last 'service' on earth that I would do for her, although that isn't so!
But climbing up ladders, or falling on my knees to scrub off every itsy bit of paint from mouldings, or skid marks from floors, smoke stains from cabinets, dirt from tiles... it was like praying to a certain extent. It felt like saying goodbye to my mother with my every move. I am not sure if the decisions I made were in her interest. I do not know if it was okay for her that I gave away certain things, or threw away this or that, or kept memorabilia of our family in my home... At times I felt like bursting into tears, because I could not ask her anymore. She just doesn't recall.

Hallway

At the beginning of this she insisted that her home (now) is a lot prettier than her last one. I kept her informed as of what we were doing, like painting today, or cleaning tomorrow, or handing over the keys. She seemed interested, and acted as if she knew what I was talking about, but... do I really know? She forgot about it the very next five minutes anyways.

 

Her old balcony

My mother always used to be a person who loved to move into new places. Once she even remarked that it is nice moving, and have others care about it all, like the renovation and the paperwork, or even carrying the furniture for her.

The furnished old place

I made sure we could take a lot of her stuff with her over there. And it's a cozy room now, that she calls her new home. I'm still afraid of giving the place the name 'home' as it has the flair of a graveyard in my country. It's called a 'senior citizen place'... as if that would change anything. Some people still believe that you get rid of your family members when you don't wanna care for them anymore, and place them in a 'home', but that isn't so. So far I have more work than before, and I see her more often, and I care for her a lot more than I did when she lived in her own apartment. I only feel sorry for those who don't have family that looks after them on a regular basis. Some residents there seem really lost.

 

Paintings by my late sister

Her old bed

My mom feels comfy, though. So I needn't worry. But, it feels as if it was the work people do when their parents die. At least, when she'll die one day, there's no work left for me to do anymore. It's just a couple of belongings in her room left now, most I will be able to gift or give away, or even throw out. That should be done in less than half a day or so.

 

The door to her room welcomes her
with a wellknown etching of her
birthplace

So all of this makes me feel sad. I'm in mourning, somehow. I had to say goodbye to my mom, to her past, to my memories, little by little, as she doesn't remember a thing anymore. *sigh*

 

My mom and I

Sorry for this has gotten a bit melancholic, but that's just how I feel at the moment. My mother is 79 now, turning 80 this year, and all I tell her about herself, and her life is like the lastest news for her. So sad to grow old, and having forgotten everything. That you led a good life, yeah that you HAD a life. Once. And now every decision is made for you by somebody else.

Garden and smoker area

She's always worried about having forgotten something, or having done something wrong. But she seems to feel comfortable around me, safe and sound.

Bathroom

For all of you and your families, I pray that this illness will never strike in your lives or in the lives of your family members, as it is hard to bear, and hard, hard work. I am happy for every moment she recalls my name, and who I am, and our memories together.

Her room at the nursing home

Stay happy and healthy my dear friends! Take care.

After

I'd be delighted if you'd leave me your thoughts on this in the comments below. And thank you for taking the time to read. Bye for the moment.