My Visit with Mom
Recently, I flew across the country from Seattle to my hometown of Albany, New York, to spend a few days with my elderly mother. While my father died relatively young (at age 64 โ a year older than I am now), my mom is like the Energizer Bunny. At 97, she keeps going and going and going.
Well, maybe not exactly. She now needs hearing aids in both ears, her short-term memory has declined significantly, and she is legally blind, able only to make out shapes and colors but with no detail. And she needs a wheelchair to make it any further than two feet. But otherwise, she is doing amazingly well.
While my mother knew I was coming to town, she kept forgetting exactly which day Iโd be arriving. So, when I knocked on her room door at the nursing home facility, I entered the room only identifying my presence by saying โSpecial Delivery for Betty.โย She got momentarily confused, not knowing who was calling on her.
I proclaimed I had a special order of Peanut M&Mโs (her favorite candy), but she was still unsure about who was bringing her this surprise. She guessed a few names before I gave her a hint: โItโs your fourth son, Tim!โ Suddenly, she lit up like a Christmas tree and hugged me like my visit was the return of the prodigal son.
Her fragile frame, once 5โ3โ, now barely reaches 5โ. But her smile is still radiant. I would be visiting her for the next six days, and all I wanted to do was be there with her and to hopefully add a little sunshine for a few precious days.
[








