helping with Miss Marion

This photo was taken back in the early spring.

Caregiving an elderly family member could possibly become a part of your life, and many times it comes unexpectedly.

I have a small blog I entitled Shadow Pearls for the seventeen months I was the prime caregiver for both of my parents. It was sometimes the best of times and sometimes the worst of times. And my attitude and trust in the Lord is what helped to make it something I can now look back on with the blessing it did give me and my family overall. It was not a worldly blessing at all, it was downright hard, yet the blessing received was deep, wide and rich because to care for those who need you, those who cared for you when you needed them, comes around to a full circle and you see the Lord's abundant grace and  never ending mercy. I was glad when I was doing it and I am even more glad now that I was able to do it then.

There is a family in my church that cares for his mother in their home. She has dementia. My heart knows what they are living day by day, evening by evening. It is such a privilege to give them a bit of time so they can at the least pretend life is "normal". I tell the daughter-in-law that while others have no framework to understand what they are doing, I do understand and it is a joy for me to come alongside them in little ways.

This past Saturday Miss Marion came to our home and my husband and I kept her all day so this family could go with their visiting daughter, son-in-law and granddaughter for a day of fun and adventure. I love her and she has paved a grove in my heart. 

memories of her

I debated writing this post on Shadow Pearls instead of here since it certainly would be fitting as I recorded those days on that blog when I had full care of her. Those days of grace, those days of hard places, those days that while they were lingeringly long, yet were not long enough.

First thing this morning I sat down with my coffee and wrote the date and the memory of her opened a door wide, it was just as if I had stepped into the "land of OZ". It bursted of color that only a mother can give, her voice was clearly spoken in my ear, and I saw myself as one looking at a photograph book going back years from my childhood right up to that time thirteen years ago. Truthfully, it then occurred to me why she had been so prevalent in my thoughts all week.

     But that tug of missing her grabbed deep too. There is no wonder that I was able to convince my husband to take a drive to a local nursery where the purchase of a lilac bush made the most sense. She died during the days of blooming lilacs so in my way of thinking I should have a blooming lilac in my yard. Isn't it beautiful?

It will be a long time before I am able to forget my mother as she is this summer, and remember her as she used to be.

The Summer of the Great-Grandmother

Madeleine L'Engle

A Redolence of Her

A clear glass vase of stargazer lilies bloom on my bedside table. I will smell their scent and forever be reminded of my dear mother and this day.

a Sunday in late April

I got up about 6:30 this morning, slung my arms into a cotton robe and headed downstairs to check on mother. I could hear her breathing with the same pattern I have become accustomed to these past weeks, slow and steady. On to the kitchen, with coffee mug in hand I entered the sun room and began my morning's quiet time.

The family stirred and I knew it was time to get a move on if I was even considering attending church service today. I went back into mother's room and opened the blinds as I began talking to her trying to get her awake enough to measure her pain level. She was sleeping comfortably. With the arrival of our private aid we determined we would change and reposition her while she was in this quiet state. After seeing she was sleeping without discomfort, I decided I would definitely go to church, cell phone clutched tightly in my hand.

I entered mother's bedroom after being gone about a span of two hours. Mother's breathing had changed considerably within that period of time. Within two minutes of me walking into the room, mother breathed her last breath. Peacefully, just like Charlotte had prayed.

a cloud with a silver lining

With every cloud there is most definitely a silver lining and my particular scenario delivered the inevitable cleaning that took place recently at my house because of all the rearranging of rooms in my home at the present. Mother moves in tomorrow, she will take our bedroom located downstairs, my husband and I will take Alan's old bedroom upstairs, the bedroom that has just been recently redecorated and made into a spare bedroom. A huge task to say the least, but I was able to go through so many things and move them to more appropriate places either known as storage or garbage, depending on the item. It felt so good to be organizing closets, shelves, drawers and the deeper cleaning of baseboards, blinds and walls left me feeling satisfied, howbeit, tired as I was.

awaiting the hospital bed that is to be delivered early tomorrow morning.

to share the times of our lives

I have spent the past year actively caring for my elderly parents, which ultimately led to me creating another blog, Shadow Pearls, a place to blog about the verisimilitudes of caring for elderly, and in my case, sick parents. I desired cherith revisited to be a blog that reveled domesticity, to record and share a kaleidoscope of my life all under an umbrella of faith and family.

Please indulge me this one post to spill over from one blog to another, especially since my domestic life will include some changes very soon. The plans are to have my mother moved here to my home by January 30, chunks of my day are delegated to making arrangements for this huge task.  Yet schooling, laundry and meal preparations are carried on too, without the neglecting of any of the girls' extracurricular activities. I have cooked chicken pastry, (my husband's favorite) and a savory beef stew along with the baking of a batch of chocolate chip cookies. Piano lessons, ballet classes, CC, Latin Club, Church, and every evening play practices have formed the core of my days along with visits with my mother. And I even went by the store and bought a black dress today.

I have peace now. A peace that has eluded me this past year and instead left me feeling like I was drowning in a weighty grief.

 I rejoice in His tender mercies and His perfect timeliness.

"I love the LORD because He has heard my voice and my supplications.

Because He has inclined His ear unto me, therefore will I call upon Him as long as I live."

Psalm116:1-2

Oh, and have I mentioned I covet your prayers?

a room to decorate

On the first day of December...

taken on my iphone

We gathered paper, garland, lights and ribbon and continued the decorating of mother's room.

Upon which she promptly thanked us.

holy words

Daily visits to my mother.

taken on my iphone

This afternoon breathed warmth and sunshine. Charlotte sat on the edge of the her bed and read holy words from Daily Light.

the funeral

Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death

I will fear no evil

for Thou art with me.

chocolate kisses

  





My father loved chocolate kisses. Therefore,  when he arrived at our house in December we filled a basket full of them and he would have his daily fill of chocolate kisses. The day finally came when he was no longer interested in eating them and he would call Charlotte over to his bedside and place one in her hand. She became very proficient in asking for them until the basket was empty. 


The process of grief can take sweet forms too. We made a trip to *Target* and purchased bags of chocolate kisses which were poured  into a silver-plated bowl. They were set on a pedestal beside my father at visitation Tuesday night. 

Handfuls of sweet chocolaty remembrances.

 Daddy would have liked that.

of muffins, casseroles, soups and pastries

Food for thought- Grieving does not negate hungry bellies. While mealtimes come and mealtimes go, someone must provide food to eat and nourish- plain and simple truth. Funny how I have not given much thought to it these days, the means of how it will be purchased or who puts it on the table.

But others know. My door bell rings and there is our next meal.

Thank you.

a walk to remember

"I'll fly away, O glory, I'll fly away;
When I die, hallelujah, by and by,
I'll fly away."

After a week of the hospice nurse walking me through what to expect and with manifested realities being the mainstay of our days, Daddy passed away just before midnight last night.

Before bedtime my husband, Rose, Charlotte and I sang hymns to him. He would have sung along if he could have.

I'll Fly Away,
      In the Sweet By and By, 
              When We all Get to Heaven,
                       and Nearer My God to Thee

This morning Charlotte came downstairs, and since her bedroom is just across the hall from where Daddy has lived these past two months, she asked, "Where is Granddaddy?"

"He's in heaven, Charlotte."

We embraced. She will always remember this walk too.

the embroidered pillowcase

Who would have known a pillow would provide such comfort to my dying father? A pillow ensconced in a pillowcase I embroidered when I was about ten years old. Some of the threads are missing and need to be restitched but I could not help smiling when I saw it there this week perched up alongside his sweet face. He made sure every night before we tucked him in that we put that pillow on his left side.


Dying is laborious work. I take any pearls and smiles I can find in this journey.

cherry blessings

Loneliness. It is not an issue when your name is on the Hospice roles. Visitors and phone calls five days a week all willing to provide succor, care, concern, and support.

Many said it would be hard.

It is.

But they did not say it would have a wondrous red cherry on top.

serving lunch

                                                  Two napkins, one for under the chin,

                                                   a bowl of cream of tomato soup with croutons,

                                                   grilled cheese sandwich cut into four triangles,

                                                   a bowl of mandarin oranges with juice,

                                                    and requested glass of lemonade and water, with ice.

"Mercy and truth are met together;
            righteousness and peace have kissed each other."
                                                                                          Psalm 85:10

My father is settled in a room upstairs. A regular daily caregiver along with Hospice will assist me and my family in caring for him.

Many visits these past two days from those gifted with mercy, willing to help.

Peaceful thoughts when you know Who is in charge.

giving thanks

As I walked in November's mellow sunshine this afternoon, my heart was absorbed with the matter in which these times of my life have stacked themselves. Like old suitcases with silk linings, solid mahogany dining room cupboards and tarnished pieces of silver, the familiar, the treasured, and the changed tell a story that scribbles across pages, creating chapters and requiring volumes, yet the words are not enough.

My mother has not lived near me since I officially left home and became a wife over thirty-two years ago. That changed yesterday when we moved my mother into an assisted living home only three miles from my house. Sounds neatly packaged and stacked, yet the tugs of my heart in this matter are strong.

But thankful I am, and my heart rests and daily lifts up genuine thanksgiving and praise to my Lord.

Happy Thanksgiving each and every one!

Amidst

I awoke in a strange bed. Mother must have heard my stirrings and quiet rustlings because she came shuffling down the hall, early. I read a portion of John 15 to her, "I Am the vine, you are the branches." 

I continually averted her attention from my father, who is currently not with her due to his recent illness, to childhood memories:

churning butter with her grandmother, 

springs of fresh water,

 deep in the country,

 country hams taken from the smokehouse and given to a hungry man who stopped by the porch, 

moustache cups from which Papa drank his coffee,

 and sleeping in the bed with Big Mama and Papa because the bats hitting against the chimney during the night aroused such fright. This personally was my most favorite because she would pat the side of the couch and smile, remembering the comfort.

The conversation ran along with me filling in the missing pieces of words lost.

I prayed, at times tears running down my cheeks, on the drive home that morning. A drive that took me through heavy traffic, where the sunlight danced across the windshield and the sky was so unbelievably clear after a weekend of mindboggling confusion.

He embraced me. 

It is good to be home with my family once again. Doing the routine things with revitalized appreciation.

Entirely different conversations than that of the previous days.

We laughed a lot last night. A hopeful antidote to balance the tears. 

It might possibly be time to add caregiving as a label. A portion of my day is spent with the concerns of my elderly sick parents these days.