The original mission of this blog was to provide another way for my mother-in-law to be able to see something about our lives, without having to do anything but get on her computer. Now I am not sure she does get on her computer anymore, and the audience for this has not grown much past my family and a few close friends. But, as anyone near me knows, I do my best thinking when I am writing or talking, so this blog was of course for me as much as it was for Lilah. It will continue on without her but it will still be written with her in mind. I like writing for 90 year olds -- they appreciate everything and they are not super critical. In Lilah's case, she is not critical at all of me or what I write.
Just in case you have not been part of the daily news cycle in our family, we are in a whole new place with Lilah's health and future. A week ago everyone thought she would have surgery next week to remove something that was growing and getting to be problematic. Details not important. But in the last five days or so, things have changed drastically and Lilah is soon to be in the care of the hospice team that works with her residential community.
I just got off the phone with Dena -- she is staying with her mom for the week, helping to navigate the new realities and just being a very helpful and understanding presence. We are all lucky that Dena has taken the role of caregiver of emotions, if we can put it that way. In any case, it is not by chance that Dena is the one who is hanging out with Lilah this week (no one knows what next week will bring, but Jon is planning to be there). She feels lucky to be with their mom, and we are lucky that she is there. For years Sue has done all the work of being the closest sibling, living just a half mile away and always taking care of every single logistical detail and communication. No one can imagine all that Sue has done. Dena has been the one who makes sure to call every day and stay in touch from a distance. Those two have taken these roles with grace and patience, and the rest of us should remember that always.
Anyway, in the course of that conversation I learned more about what I think, in addition to hearing how things are going. Here is what I think: we are all so blessed that Lilah has the biological and emotional fortitude that she has. While she may be forgetting some things (it would be wild and unbelievable if she weren't forgetting some things), she has never not once not ever forgotten who she is or how she fits in. She has been a rock, in so many ways that we have never even noticed. She is reliably Lilah, every step of the way. This is so important for the rest of us. We have not had to adjust to a new personality as she has gotten older and less able. She has been gracious, calm, caring, strong. So strong. Throughout all the challenges of being Leon's partner as he declined and lost hold of his own essence, she has maintained her essence every moment. Certainly there have been times of distress or uncertainty. Certainly there have been times when she didn't know what to do. But she has never scared us by becoming too anxious to cope or showing flashes of anger or anything that would be a surprise. We have relied on her and she has been entirely reliable, as our mother and grandmother and mother-in-law.
This family is not particularly demonstrative or direct when it comes to feelings. I shouldn't speak with such generality -- Jon's youngest sister has been both demonstrative and direct about her feelings for many years, and we appreciate that very much. But, overall, it is a family that works things through together, appreciates every member of the group, makes time to gather together, and then talks about sports or trivia or national news. We have been getting better at expressing our feelings, now that we have had more practice, with Leon's passing and all that came with that.
This moment, this moment right now, is a gift to every single one of us. Lilah is still present and able to listen and speak. She is at home. She sleeps in her own bed, she gets out of a chair without help, she reads the newspaper at her table. But this moment is fleeting. Of course all of life is fleeting, but this time it is extremely powerfully fleeting. In less than a week she is likely to be in the nursing care center. Who can say how long she will be with us as she is today. This is our opportunity, right now, to make sure that we express to her how much she means to us.
Tears are flowing down my face as I write this. Of course I am grateful that she has had a good life, a life of love, including a perfectly lived marriage of over 60 years, and work and family and even a fine retirement in a comfortable home. And it is hard to express how grateful I am that she will not suffer as she gets closer to death. Because of all the choices she has made up until now, and the choices her children have made on her behalf, she will have the chance to have a good death. This is such a gift. It is hard to imagine, right now, the world without her. It is always hard to imagine that. But we know, from long experience, that we will think of her always and she will be a part of who we are forever. We have depended on her and we will continue to depend on her -- it will just be up to us to keep her memory alive and relevant. As we know, memory can be tricky. This is my own promise to Lilah: I will make sure that we remember you accurately and continue to learn from what you have taught us.
This is a hard moment, as precious as it is.
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