By Virginia Collie-Rodriguez

A strange feeling pasted over me as I, once again, found myself sitting in a retirement home. We were very early to my mother’s scheduled doctor’s appointment which was located in the same building as the retirement home. We decided to spend the remaining time there to visit with others and drink coffee.

I sat down opposite a little gray-haired lady named Melissa and mom sat to her left on the couch. The conversation started off very well. Melissa was very personable and her eyes seem to twinkle behind her magnifying-eyeglasses. She warmly talked about how she had chosen that particular home closer to her oldest son and moved from out of state since he owned his own business.  “Now mother,” she imitated his voice, “we’re going to do it THIS way!”

She spoke of losing her only daughter to illness. She never mentioned the reason, except to say she had always been sickly since birth. Melissa commented she didn’t plan on having another child in her early years but soon found out that she was pregnant and delivered a son.

“I don’t even know where he is now. He’s a musician.” A look of disappointment clouded her expression. 

“My two boys are different from night and day.”

After about 5 minutes into our conversation, I noticed a pattern developing and soon realized Melissa also had dementia and repeated herself as my mother does with Alzheimers. Both had no short term memory of what they had just related to each other. 

For me, this experience was both tragic and comical to observe. Both women couldn’t remember what the other had just said, so they sat there, enjoying each other’s company, repeating the same thing over and over in a time span of 30 minutes. They enjoyed each other’s company for the moment. Soon the experience would forever drift into nothingness. Since they had nothing to contribute of value for the future, they are forever locked into the past. As a groove in a record, their thoughts returned over and over to the past. They are in a time warp emotionally where they can’t escape. 

The obvious difference was that my mother doesn’t want and refuses to accept her handicap and constantly states she doesn’t want to live. She is “ready to go with my dad in heaven.” She states she has nothing to live for as “my kids have your own families and interests.” She refuses to accept our words of love and empathy, encouragement or reassurance that she is loved. I told her that the one thing about memory impairment is that it doesn’t affect your ability to love others. Melissa seemed oblivious to any difficulties she had or chose not to dwell on the negative. 

God gives everyone the gift of life—not to throw away but to embrace it. But again, what I say falls on deaf ears with my mother. A person works hard their entire life in hopes to enjoy retirement. But if you don’t enjoy life now, when you are able, disaster may occur and that opportunity never happens. 

In viewing mom and Melissa, with stark reality, it was if I was viewing myself in years in the future. It was scary. Is this all there is to look forward to for my retirement years in the not-too-distant future? Hopefully, experiencing those around me going through these hardships will equip me to be a wiser person and prepare my life to avoid the same pitfalls for my future and provide as much love and support to those experiencing the problems now as I can.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: You can contact Virginia at vlr122754@aol.com or visit her webpage: http://www.ourchurch.com/member/g/grammysroom