...Meanwhile, a 6 hour and 40 minute flight away my 87-year-old mother, formerly smart-as-a-whip, sits in a chair all day, probably asleep, and if she's not asleep, she isn't doing much of anything else. She can no longer read. Books had been her life-long joy, even when she'd gotten to the point where she read the same page over, and over, and over. Is she even thinking, I wonder, and if so, about what?
Last fall, five years after the initial Alzheimer's diagnosis, my
younger sister (with whose family she lives) was told to expect the end
in six months or less.Last night, my sister texted that Mom's just had
another major decline, and that death could come in a day or so, two
weeks at the outside.
She may not recognize
me, and more than likely, won't even acknowledge there's anyone in the
room with her. I might fly out,
stay longer than I think I should, fly back home before mom dies, and
then have to turn right around the next day and fly out for the funeral. Your mom only dies once.I'm going to ask Dollar-Wise Husband about it. Can we afford this? I don't got the money, honey, but I got the time. Which is why I don't got the money.
uncharacteristically busy in the kitchen this fine New Year's Day 2016. My two grown children and husband can easily find me if they want
to visit. It's just the four of us here, and everyone's in his or her room, doing his or her own thing, maybe sleeping.
I cleared all the crap off the dining room table and laid a lacy white tablecloth out. I am working on a special "can't tell the difference" vegan quiche for my daughter, who will be going back to grad school tomorrow.
Cooking, writing.... waiting.