I'd been working with "M" for a year at her home when I was asked to accompany her to Florida to spend Thanksgiving with her two older sisters. At the time, "M" was 89 and growing increasingly frail, so I knew there was some urgency to the visit, as the sisters were 96 and 97.
Although I did not fly with "M" from New York to Florida (her son took on this role), I met up with her in the Tampa Airport. I'd never met her son before, but "M", who was uncharacteristically in a wheelchair for mobility purposes, instantly recognized my face when she saw me. She smiled brightly and extended her long arms. "M" doesn't know my name. At least not when we're together. She has Dementia, and at times, despite our 40 year age difference, believes I am a friend from her school days. I don't mind. I figure that as long as we both recognize each other, we're good to go!
"M" and I were roommates for five days at a small motel on Treasure Island, a tranquil treasure on the gorgeous Gulf Coast. Her family had stayed there for years, and the owners were thrilled to have "M" back. I've traveled a great deal in the continental U.S., but never had the privilege of staying in such a spectacular setting. Two blocks away was the aptly named Sunset Beach, and the views, which I took time to enjoy during my short break times, were breathtaking.
We spent a lot of time at our motel, which was adjacent to a quiet, coastal inlet. "M" often could not walk very far, so we would watch other guests fish off the motel's private dock. And with the fish, came the birds. Dozens and dozens of them. I was in awe, as was "M". She loves anything that flies. In fact, she herself used to fly, and professionally taught others how to.
Our first day there, I noticed a Snowy Egret. In flight, white wings spread spectacularly wide, it was one of the most regal looking birds I had ever seen. I looked at "M", tall, and lean, her white hair blowing in the warm breeze, and told her that she reminded me of a Snowy Egret. Long-limbed. Distinguished. A magnificent site in the air as well as on the ground! I'm not sure she quite got the analogy, but trust me, it couldn't have been more fitting.
When a flock of wild parrots flew over our heads, we both looked up and giggled with the joy of... well... two school girls. "M" had a great appreciation for the simple things in life, and it was a joy to share these pleasures with her. I've never enjoyed, or respected, our planet's aviary inhabitants as much as I have with "M".
With "M" reminding me of a great Egret, I couldn't imagine what animal imagery her older sisters would instill in my mind, and eagerly anticipated our first visit, scheduled for the next day. It was to be an early Thanksgiving celebration at "A"s Assisted Living Facility.
The senior sisters, "L" and "A", did not disappoint. I instantly recognized them as siblings of "M" by their height and distinguished looking countenances. "M" and I waited in the lobby of the Assisted Living Facility where "A" resided while the two were escorted in by their caregivers.
At age 97, "L" was the older of the two sisters by barely a year. Dressed in a striking blue blazer and matching pants, she was definitely dressed to the nines! I would find out later that this was her style. Of all the sisters, "L" was the most glamorous, always making sure that her hair and makeup were properly done. Topping off her holiday outfit was a beautiful brown wig. If I had to choose a bird analogy for "L", it would be the Great Blue Heron!
"A" reminded me much more of "M" in her appearance, but not only because of the white hair. Something about her seemed more nondescript, as if she didn't want attention drawn to herself. She wore a simple patterned dress with a beige blazer over it, and her hair was as white as "M"s. Now there were two snowy egrets in the room!
"A" and "L" were delighted to see their "baby" sister, and everyone in the facility couldn't help but smile at the reunion of the three sisters. As "M"s caregiver, I felt proud to be there. And oddly protective. Every time someone would approach our group, I would nudge closer and closer to "M", partly to ensure her safety, but also to ensure my comfort level. It seems the three senior sisters were causing quite a stir among the other guests.
We all sat down at our table, adorned with Thanksgiving decorations, and each caregiver was seated next to their respective sister. As we awaited dinner, we were entertained by an enthusiastic karaoke singer who was quite loud, as many of the facility residents were hearing impaired. This included "A", who needed every word hollered into one ear. Between the music and the yelling, I wasn't sure how the sisters could hear each other at all, but they seemed to be communicating in their own unique language via expressions, glances, and touches that had been fine-tuned over 90 plus years.
When dinner was served, an odd thing began to occur. I had shared many a meal with "M" prior to this occasion, and never found her lacking in appetite. But while "L" and "A" enjoyed their food quite heartily, "M"'s countenance grew more and more disheartened. Despite ongoing prompts by her two big sisters to eat her meal, "M" just picked at her food. And the more the sisters doted on her, the stronger was her refusal to eat. I couldn't figure out what was wrong, and "M", who was generally quite open with me about her feelings, had clammed up.
Finally, one of the other caregivers explained the dynamic to me. "M" was not only the main guest, but as the youngest sister, she really was the baby today... even at the age of eighty-nine. With all the focus on her, she reverted back to a pattern she had displayed with her sisters eighty years ago! The more they prodded and pushed at her, the more she would resist. I guess when you've been alive for nine decades, you've earned the right to not be treated like the baby sister anymore.
I noticed more differences between the sisters as the afternoon went on. While "L" and "A" had both been somewhat of socialites in their youth, "M" had been the opposite. Even her current attire, a long-sleeved polo shirt and jeans, reflected her simplicity. At one point, a very old photo book from their debutante days was passed between the senior sisters. It seemed to be an album of their "Coming Out" ball. I glanced over at "M", who had a sour expression on her face. I knew that look. And I understood it. This was not her world, and she felt like the outcast. She had always marched to her own very unique drummer, which was something I greatly admired and had in common with her. Sensing her discomfort, I escorted her out of the room.
Back in our motel room that night, I tried to get "M" to discuss the events of the day. Although suffering from mild dementia, "M" was often quite clear in her comments, especially when it pertained to something from years gone by. Sure enough, she stated that she did not like being referred to as "the baby." And as far as socialites went, "M" bluntly stated that she "couldn't stand all those snobs."
We shared some great moments together that night. "M" and I were very much alike. The first thing "M" had ever asked me when I met her was, "Are there still snobs in the world?" As I uttered "yes" with a hint of disgust, I knew that "M" and I would get along just fine.
I guess that even though you can be sisters for over ninety years, it doesn't necessarily mean the bond between you is that close. That night, I looked over at "M" in the twin bed next to mine. Despite our forty year age difference, I felt like I was bunking with a another kind of sister. It was a wonderful feeling, one I hope I never forget.
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