My folks retired to Houston and lived
there for 20+ years before down-sizing, selling their home, and moving to an
apartment in St. Petersburg FL to be closer
to family support (one of my elder sisters lives there).
I didn’t mention this earlier, but much of the summer and fall of last year my brothers, sisters, and I helped Mom & Dad prepare to move, . . . deciding what to bring with them (what would fit in their new place),
. . . preparing their house for sale after they left (new paint, new carpet, yard work, many minor repairs, and thorough cleaning inside and out), . . . deciding
what to do with all the stuff they left behind (of their five children, who wanted what and how to get it to them, with a goodly amount left over for goodwill, and the rest to the dump), . . . and working with the realtor on pricing, open houses, responding to offers, and negotiating the close of the real estate transaction.
This entailed multiple trips to Houston to
meet with movers, the realtor, repair crews, painters / carpet layers, interior / exterior cleaners, gardeners, junk-haulers, etc., and many, many calls to
arrange / coordinate times for these folks to be at the home to perform their work. The air travel and working
around their house became another feature of my convalescence, and
there were days when my ankles became markedly swollen after being up and about longer than I had been up to this point.
An elder sister and I spent a long weekend on a herculean effort, moving from room-to-room through the house sorting items between those for family friends & helpers, goodwill, recycling, and junk, . . . and then preparing all items for appropriate movement. As you can imagine, this was both physically and emotionally draining, as we came across many left behind items that conjured childhood memories, and we had to be judicious about what could be salvaged and passed forward and what we would leave behind forever.
Eventually everything came together as planned, and when the house sold in late August my folks
were pleased and it all seemed to have been worth the effort. None-the-less, Mom had indicated
hesitancy about moving from their Houston home.
She had teased---but not really---that she didn’t want to go, . . . wouldn’t
go, . . . would stay there at the kitchen breakfast table. Mom especially enjoyed sitting there reading the newspaper, listening to the news on the radio, and looking out of the large picture window at birds & squirrels visiting
the bird feeders Dad hung from tree limbs on the other side of the driveway outside the window. Dad was hesitant as well, as he enjoyed golfing with his buddies and
singing in the church choir.
Both Mom & Dad loved living in their Houston home,
and they had made a number of accommodations around the house to address the
risks, such as putting in a chairlift on the stairs, installing a day-bed in
the downstairs office and installing a shower stall and toilet in the utility
room off of the kitchen. Additionally,
they had a long-term disability insurance policy that kicked in and paid for an
in-home service to provide simple day-to-day care.
It was a good situation for them, but their kiddos (me and my brothers & sisters) were concerned about their living alone because of
the lack of interaction with others, the risks of not having medical
response nearby, and the increasing amount of support they would need as their memory capabilities diminished. Over the years, we had gradually introduced the concept of their downsizing and moving closer to one
of us, and eventually they grudgingly acquiesced to our encouragements.
I would discuss downsizing with them using a climbing analogy. I described
the choice to remain in their home as analogous to a technical climbing team who had climbed past their
turn-around time and although it was still light out and climbing was enjoyable, it was going to get dark soon, and then climbing would
become perilous. Also, as they aged, I alluded to their gradual loss of rock-climbing capabilities and stamina and hence they would become less resilient in responding to
complications and this also increased the risk of experiencing catastrophic consequences of
a fall, a broken hip, and then six months of life, tops.
Brothers and sisters spoke to them as well, and one sister invited them
to visit a St. Petersburg senior living complex where they ultimately chose to live.
Unfortunately once in Florida, Mom's health rapidly dwindled, and she became progressively weaker as the weeks passed. She was in the hospital before the Christmas
holidays to address a racing heart, and because she had become so weak and
fragile, the doctors required she stay for several more days of observation. Then, the doctors prescribed a follow-on week at a skilled nursing center for physical therapy to improve her strength and ease of movement,
and she moved there after the new year. Mom was increasingly miserable, and I was shocked to receive a call from Dad on January 13th that she had
died overnight at the skilled nursing center. Just the day before an elder brother and I spoke, and we both agreed that although her decline had been increasingly rapid, she had at least several more months if not years.
What the kiddos didn't understand or avoided comprehending, is that our folks were already so fragile that the move to Florida---rather than guarding against a critical incident that would result in a rapid downward spiral in health---actually instigated Mom's rapid descent. Using the climbing analogy, we implemented a futile rescue attempt. Mom & Dad were already climbing into sunset, and it was already too late to attempt a rescue. We didn't realize that while in the midst of moving them from Houston to St. Petersburg they were very close to being benighted, and although they had acquiesced to our efforts, they knew in their hearts that it was too late, that we should just leave them be where they were and allow them to enjoy the last of the sunset as best as possible. How sorrowful I am at this realization in 20/20 hindsight.
My elder sister Lynn wrote and arranged
for Mom’s obituary to be placed in Houston & Baton Rouge newspapers. She organized the memorial service, invited
all our relatives, rented the venue, hired the caterers, . . . did just about
everything. Elder brother Bob prepared an
amazing slide show that ran in the background throughout the gathering.
I acted as master of ceremonies and spoke on my family's behalf.
My father is devastated by the unanticipated loss of his partner of 65+ years, and it’s
like half of him is missing. He is so
sad and lonely. He is miserable. He regrets.
He would never have agreed to move from their Houston home last summer
if he had known the love of his life would be gone in the new year. He feels guilt for having taken her from the
place she loved best, causing turbulence and complications during the last
months of her life. Marie was not happy in
St. Petersburg, and Dad feels as though
perhaps she just sort of let life go and left him, sneaking out the back door
when know one was looking.
Now I see that the climbing analogy I
used to encourage them to downsize and move to an apartment was correct, but I gleaned
the wrong lessons from it. True, Mom and Dad
had climbed well past their turn-around time, but it had become so late in the day that
the only reasonable thing to do was to admit there would be no
getting back down safely, and so the only choice was to enjoy the remaining
time on the rock, ascending their last summit and becoming benighted up there, but blissfully
so. Instead, we encouraged them to acquiesce to an emergency descent, and so with our prodding they tried to beat a hasty retreat even after it
was too late to do so safely, and Mom fell on the way down. We didn't realize how dangerous it was to change course and retreat when the climb party is frail but in equilibrium.
I flew to St. Petersburg to accompany
Dad on his travels to Mom’s memorial service in Houston. He had been experiencing acute pain in his
lower back, and we were able to make an appointment with a Houston specialist
who had helped him in the past, and so we stayed after the ceremony for an
extra couple of days until the appointment.
We had several very nice days together, and took the opportunity to
visit the sight of the memorial service again and the gardens surrounding
it. There was an especially lovely
Japanese garden that we very much enjoyed walking through.
The doctors visit turned out very
well, and the flight back to Florida was uneventful, but it was so difficult to
leave him alone and grieving in his forlorn and empty apartment. I suggested that he should reconsider all the
decisions that had brought him there. If
they had not moved from Houston, and Mom had passed there in their lovely home,
and if he now found himself widowed and alone, what would he do under those
circumstances? Likely, he would move from the Houston
home, and so that part was already taken care of. Perhaps he might still choose Florida as his new home, and if so, then that part was already taken care of as well, and then he would just need to figure out how to carry on without Mom. But if another alternative now seemed to
make more sense, he shouldn’t think twice about asking for help to make another
move.
I have suggested that rather than living
alone in an apartment, he might also consider moving in with me in
Seattle. At first, he expressed concern
about cramping my style, but I made it clear that I was serious and would be
honored to have him live with me. It
would be a pleasure to care for him now as he had cared for all of us while we
were growing up, and that I would very much welcome having his company. We'll take our time discussing this alternative. We want to be certain of what will be the best situation for him, now that Mom is gone.
Family ties have taken precedence over consistency in focus on convalescence, as well they should.
