Home
We come and go.
We paint the walls and mow the grass, and except for when it's time to make the mortgage payment we usually don't give a whole lot of thought to "home" and what it would be like if we suddenly didn't have our home.
We paint the walls and mow the grass, and except for when it's time to make the mortgage payment we usually don't give a whole lot of thought to "home" and what it would be like if we suddenly didn't have our home.
Mom has a home. A nice home that she's lived in for 30+ years. Then she fell ill, and it's no longer possible for her to live in her home. It sets empty. My sister and I do the necessary maintenance and there are many who would say we should sell it, but neither of us have the heart to do so at this time. Occasionally when Mom is back in her hometown she'll want to see her home. Then there's always the question of whether it is a "help" for her or a "hindrance" to her well-being, advanced dementia being what it is, it's sometimes confusing for her. She grieves for the loss of her home. At first the grief was on-going. Now the grief seems to only rear it's head on certain days.
Last week our family went out to eat Chinese food.
When the waiter brought the fortune cookies at the end of the meal we all had a good laugh as we read our funny fortunes. Mom was the only one in our group who had a serious fortune cookie.
When the waiter brought the fortune cookies at the end of the meal we all had a good laugh as we read our funny fortunes. Mom was the only one in our group who had a serious fortune cookie.
She read it aloud.
The meaning didn't seem to register.
But it made me very sad.
The meaning didn't seem to register.
But it made me very sad.
While I've never had to "give up my home" and go live in someone else's house, I do understand that feeling of wanting to be in "my home." After living in the same house for 30+ years, when DH and I moved to a new home, I shed many tears day and night over missing my home. Even though it was no longer mine and we were together in our new home, there was something about that place where I had lived my life for over 30 years, memories, the comfort of those familiar rooms, the yard where I had planted the tiny little stick trees that now tower over that house, the neighborhood, everything about it. I confess I frequently drove over just to look at my home. I still get nostalgic when I pause to think about it, even though I've grown accustomed to our new home.
ReplyDeleteI’m glad she is thinking that way less often and maybe soon, she will get it – the home is where the heart is. Since her mind isn’t quite the same as before, her heart is still somewhere else. I know this is painful to you.