Mom's room was ready as of Thursday August 24th but they held it for us for five days....by held, I mean they charged us for it, and kept it empty. My sister arrived from UK Monday night and Tuesday AM we went to move mom.
I took my camera for two reasons; could I be a legitimate photographer and not document such an important day in all our lives, and could I use it to distract me from the intense feelings I was surely to feel. The last thing I wanted to do was cry and make things worse for mom. Of course, the answers were no, and yes. In documenting the day, I was able to look at things a little bit like an outsider, and keep my feelings in check- to a point.
We packed as if we were going on a surprise trip- we threw a bunch of things in a suitcase, all the while dodging a myriad of questions: "Where are we going?""Where are we?""Why are you doing this?". But we forged on and were out the door in under an hour.
We set off in my tiny fiat, barely fitting three adults and a suitcase, still evading the constant onslaught of queries, trying to keep the mood light. But just like the child knowing something is amiss, mom was on to us and was getting a little agitated. I began singing an Armenian song to her in the car, and she burst into tears, as she often does when she cannot contain her emotions; good or bad, and the sunglasses went on.
We arrived to a warm welcome, with Armenian seniors all around, welcoming us to the home, and mom cried again behind her sunglasses. We went through the meeting with the staff, answering all kinds of questions from her eating habits to her personal ones, and mom cried once more. We spoke at length of this horrid journey that brought us to this place, and this time I cried. Mom saw me and cried along.
It's a good thing crying was never taboo in our household. Mom used to tell me to cry, and get it all out. When will it all be out?
We used to think it was sweet that she cried at every single episode of Little House on the Prairies. She used to pull the Kleenex box up close and put the TV on. We would nudge each other and smile at the inevitable, and she would swat us away like flies. I wonder what she was letting out? I long for those days now, where I thought I knew the reason for my mom's tears. Now I don't know if it is a moment of clarity where she knows what we have been forced to do, or something else...what else? It could be so many things. It could be nothing! Just a misfiring of those neurotransmitters.
Well, I want to say some four-letter words to those neurotransmitters, and their failings, but nature takes it course one way or another, it always has. As I sat there with my mom tonight in the communal room, trying to get her to leave her newly manicured hands alone by watching a bit of TV, I realized that she had it quite good. The woman in the wheelchair next to us was letting out muffled cries. When I asked her what was wrong she said she wanted to strangle herself (in Armenian). The nurse watching her said she was in extreme pain, and I could see she was at least partly mentally there. As selfish as this might be, I was glad in that moment that I don't have to watch my mom writhe in pain, and not be able to do a thing to help her. At least now I can still make her laugh, which I do at every opportunity, and I know what the reason behind that is at least.
Khenzor, you are safe, albeit confused right now. We will make sure there is a familiar face with you each day, and we will keep you well cared for as long as possible. Enjoy you manicure. I really enjoyed doing that for you tonight.
Comments
Post a Comment