Our corner
bedroom is quiet, empty except for the furniture staging. I sit in a wheel
chair and roll back and forth enjoying the peace. I remember the many families
we have entertained in this room as they visited their parent(s) with gifts of
candy and favorite food, and finally sat quietly in death vigil. Some of these
residents I mourn and pray for happy memories for their families in this season
of remembering.
The family
of one resident fought a need for Hospice until I had to call and insist that I
get help caring for their father. Their response to my urgent demand for pain
meds was to ask, “this won’t stop him from getting better will it?” The man
died three days later.
Family
Systems--the way a family functions--don’t change just because the calendar
reports advanced years. A friend tells the story of her two week respite stay
with her 80+ mother so her father could attend an out-of-state family reunion. “I was
eager to help out but also terrified. My Mom can be so critical I turn to
instant jelly.”
Another
woman was difficult but manageable until her daughter visited. Within 30
minutes they would be verbally clawing at each other. Other family members
understood that this was the relationship mother and daughter had always
had. In the last few days the daughter
continued to bring in trinkets and goodies that would perk up her nearly comatose mom. As
miserable as she made our lives, I pray for the daughter because in this month
of family get-togethers, she is still grieving for her mom.
December is
the time of year to forgive, to recognize the way it was supposed to be in our
homes and accept the reality of what was. The lights and color of Christmas
decorations can encourage us to release guilt, the gift that keeps on giving.
Parents were people’s children too.
Within a
week this room will be filled with the stuff of another family and we will be
honored to learn the way they do things.