Our weekend: No. I: Mom
8:10 a.m.
We arrived late afternoon at my mom�s in T.O. and I was anticipating the worst. Fortunately, the heart attack didn�t alter her outward appearance much; she still looks the same, albeit perhaps a little more frail. Her hair needs cutting, so she seems a bit frowzy. But her mental acuity is unchanged, and her desire to appear independent, although she is complaining more about her shoulder and her hip and her deteriorating vision (she has macular degeneration). The house is also in need of a good cleaning and she doesn�t see the dirt. So I swept the kitchen floor, which was rather disgusting, and cleaned her countertops. She throws stuff in the garbage can next to the sink (there�s an opening where someone might put a dishwasher, but she has a non-built-in model that she uses as extra counter space) and misses, so it just builds up on the floor, and I cleaned that up too.
She prepared for us minestrone soup from Moosewood (it was rather delicious) and store-bought vegetarian lasagne and apple pie. We spent the evening playing cards (I beat her rather handily at cribbage and she and Hubby were neck-and-neck at rummy until he ginned when the score was 96-94). We talked at length about her finding a senior�s home to settle in and I put out the idea of coming to L�ville and checking out the residence right here. It�s within very short walking distance of everything: pharmacy, dry cleaners, supermarket, bakery, health-food store, and if I could get her in with my doctor, she could even walk to her office. There are two dentists in town, the university has a marvelous concert series, there are lots and lots of people around for her to make friends with (and she makes friends easily), and we would be here to look in on her regularly, have her over for dinner once a week, and just be there as family.
Right now my brother comes over weekly, spends the bare minimum of social time with her and then proceeds to do jobs around the house. If she no longer has a house, will he even bother visiting her? I can�t imagine him playing cards with her or engaging her in conversation, even though Mummy says he�s been much more affectionate since she got back from the hospital, actually giving her hugs and kisses on his way in and out the door. But she drives him crazy (as she does me, but that�s another story) and he avoids her socially when he can. Anyway, I planted a seed, and I could see that it was germinating. I have to do my job from this end and get the literature from the Manor, talk to people who are either there or have relatives there, and just find out if it is the right place for her. I know the idea of living in a French environment doesn�t appeal to her, but in L�ville, one can get along just fine without knowing that language at all.
My mother at first balked a little because she doesn�t like the idea of leaving T.O. I asked her if there was anything, besides the actual geography, keeping her there? Most of her friends are dead, as are most of her contemporaneous relatives; her son pays her the minimum attention while his own wife openly contemns her; one of her grand-daughters is off to university in Sudbury and the other is so busy with extracurricular activities that she hardly ever sees them anyway; and most of all, she has no sentimental attachment any more to the house and the physical objects in it.
We had lunch with her on our way out of town yesterday and discussed this a bit more. Even though I realize I am probably signing my own loony-bin admission by suggesting this course of action to her, I really believe it is a good route for her, to be close to her daughter. I have no ulterior motive other than her continued happiness, i.e. I�m not trying to get into her good graces so she�ll remember me more favourably in her will. As a matter of fact, I would really, really like it if she spent all her money so there was nothing left to divide up later. Just the thought of that hassle makes me sweat!
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