“Take me back to my people.”
That was the directive mom gave me on Christmas Eve, when my brother, the girlfriend and I decided it was time to leave.
Mom usually sits in the main living room between meals, among the other residents. On December 24th, we had taken mom in her wheel chair to the front living room of the assisted living facility, where it was just the four of us and we could have a quiet, personal conversation. And warm up by the fireplace. In the main living room, the TV was turned on and there were three other residents present who probably didn’t want to listen to us yammer on and on about stuff that didn’t matter to them.
So, we escaped to talk about home, family, the weather and the status of what was being served for supper. Ninety minutes later, we were ready to head home and mom was ready to get back to her people in the other living room.
On Christmas Day, there was no such order. Instead, mom told the aide who was taking her back to her room, “Now, don’t lose me.” The aide responded with, “Don’t worry, I won’t.”
Good to know.
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