Two weeks ago, I learned that "M"s one surviving sister, "A", had passed away. Her long-time caregiver in Florida had notified me, specifically instructing me not to be sad about the news. "A" was only a month shy of her ninety-eighth birthday, but according to certain family members, had not had a high quality of life for a number of years.
I did feel sad, despite the caregiver's request, but I also felt honored to have spent a great deal of time with "A" during my extended stay with "M" in her new Gulf Coast Home last holiday season. And although I did not know "A" nearly as long or as well as her primary caregiver did, I nevertheless was able to develop a completely objective, and rather contrary, perception of "A"s quality of life based on my time shared with her.
When I first met "A" in November of 2011, she resided in a small assisted living facility about twenty minutes from the Gulf Coast. This is where I spent the wonderful 3 Senior Sisters Thanksgiving! After that, I did not see "A" for another year, during which time the oldest sibling, "L", had passed away. Then, during a total of seven weeks that I spent in the sunshine state as "M"s caregiver during late 2012 into early 2013, I was privileged to enjoy at least the same number of visits with "A" at her residential facility. And in hindsight, they were all full of quality!
Three of the visits were on holidays: Christmas, New Years, and Valentine's Day. All of these occasions involved parties that were hosted by every single member of the assisted living facility's staff, from the director to the nursing aides to the cooks. For Christmas, they were all decked out as Santa's Helpers, wearing some type of green and red Elf outfit. On New Years, the staff donned party hats, beaded necklaces, and a myriad of noisemakers. Valentine's Day took the cake, though, with every employee looking like Cupid, with red and white hearts scattered throughout the facility. In my mind, each of the events was a wonderful experience, filled with laughter, love, and companionship. I remember feeling extremely grateful to be a part of the all the festivities.
I also recall that "M"s big sister "A", in spite of being restricted to a wheelchair, was absolutely delighted by all of the activities, clearly in her element in a part atmosphere that included music, food, and all around camaraderie. Still a towering presence in a seated position, I suspected that in her heyday she was even taller than her little sister, who had been at least six feet in height in her heyday. Side by side, both made a glorious pair of great snowy egrets!
Like "M", "A" loved to sing, and these holiday celebrations gave her the opportunity to belt out some of her favorite tunes. "A" had the stronger, deeper, louder voice of the two distinguished birds, and took great pleasure in singing along with (and ultimately drowning out) the karaoke music and live singers (most of whom were staff members), all of whom so graciously gave their time and energy to ensure that the residents of the facility had a happy holiday season.
I can still picture "A" now, joyously singing along with holiday carols, hokey love songs, and a variety of other fan favorites, including "I Could Have Danced All Night" from "My Fair Lady." Her booming voice seemed to echo throughout the dining room, and like her baby sister, "M", she quite clearly took great joy in her musical renditions. The only difference was that unlike the humming "M", her big sister actually knew some of the lyrics. For my part, I opted for a combination of singing and humming, so I wouldn't appear to side with either sister in style!
We all had great fun, and there were plenty of smiles to go around. Admittedly, I did not know what "A"s life had been like prior to meeting her a year earlier, when the three siblings shared their last Thanksgiving together. But based on the time I was lucky enough to enjoy with her in the year since then, she certainly seemed to relish every single moment as much as she possibly could! It was quite admirable indeed, and I often thought how nice it would be if everyone everywhere could relish a moment with the as much joy as "A" did.
From family stories that were passed down by "M" before her Dementia worsened, I learned that at one time, "A" had been extremely active physically, participating in a number of outdoor recreational hobbies. "M" used to tell me about how she and her sister would go hiking up in the Woods when they were girls, occasionally getting far off track, and it sounded as though "A" shared the same adventurous spirit as her younger sibling.
In fact, other family members had confirmed the story of "A" qualifying to be in the Olympics as a young adult. The event was in one of the Track and Field categories, and "A" was one of the top competitors in her area. Unfortunately, due to the growing wartime tension in Europe at the time, where the Olympics were to held, "A"s father, opting on the side of safety, had kept his daughter from participating. I imagined that "A" must have been heart-broken, perhaps in the way that "M" would have been were she prohibited from flying. In fact, when "M" tried to reveal bits and pieces of the story to me, there was always a sadness in her voice as she told the tale of her older sister.
In fact, other family members had confirmed the story of "A" qualifying to be in the Olympics as a young adult. The event was in one of the Track and Field categories, and "A" was one of the top competitors in her area. Unfortunately, due to the growing wartime tension in Europe at the time, where the Olympics were to held, "A"s father, opting on the side of safety, had kept his daughter from participating. I imagined that "A" must have been heart-broken, perhaps in the way that "M" would have been were she prohibited from flying. In fact, when "M" tried to reveal bits and pieces of the story to me, there was always a sadness in her voice as she told the tale of her older sister.
One early winter afternoon (which would translate into 70 degree temperatures in Florida) while visiting with "A" at her assisted living facility, we had a quieter, considerably less festive visit in her bedroom. "A" had lived in the facility at this point for a number of years, and her bedroom was decorated nicely with mementos from her past, especially a number of photographs. The room was large and bright, and included its own bathroom, and "A" seemed to think of it as her home. I had heard that she lost her real, long-time home in Florida due to some unscrupulous legal doings, but it seemed to me that "A" had obviously adapted to her new setting.
During this one visit, and subsequent ones, I couldn't help but notice that the Tennis Channel was always on "A"s television set. Being very hard of hearing, the volume was always turned off, but the scores were shown consistently across the bottom of the television screen. It was quite clear that "A" took immense pleasure in watching this particular sport, and I was especially impressed at how well-versed her caregiver had become in tennis terminology so that she could discuss the games with "A".
During this one visit, and subsequent ones, I couldn't help but notice that the Tennis Channel was always on "A"s television set. Being very hard of hearing, the volume was always turned off, but the scores were shown consistently across the bottom of the television screen. It was quite clear that "A" took immense pleasure in watching this particular sport, and I was especially impressed at how well-versed her caregiver had become in tennis terminology so that she could discuss the games with "A".
Curiously, I asked her caregiver the obvious question, "Did "A" used to play tennis?"
Surprisingly, her caregiver replied, "No." Apparently, although "A" participated in a number of other physical activities over her very long lifetime, tennis was not one of the regulars. Nevertheless, she had developed an enjoyment of watching the matches in her later years, and had become such a fan, that she could tell you anything about prominent tennis players or current matches. I remember telling myself that if I ever had the opportunity, I would love to sit down and watch a tennis tournament with "A", just to experience her unabashed enthusiasm. Unfortunately, I never did get that chance.
In the time I spent with "A", I also learned that she loved cats and kittens. In fact, she had one of her own that was being cared for by a friend. The cat had lived with "A" at her former residence, located in the Gulf Coast suburbs, and it was a huge loss for her to be separated from her loyal companion. "A" had many pictures of cats in her bedroom, and was quite pleased when I showed her pictures of my own brood. "A"s friend was kind enough to bring the kitty to visit her when she could, and I was thrilled when "A"s caregiver forwarded me some photos taken later this spring of one of those special reunions between "A" and her beloved friend. It appeared to me that "A" looked as content as any cat lover I've ever seen, and believe me, as the owner of multiple cats, I know how it feels to be separated from them for a long period of time. Sheer bliss to have your furry feline nestled safely in your arms again after what feels like an interminably long absence.
The photo of "A" with her cat was the last one I ever received of her, and I am so grateful that it is saved somewhere in cyberspace on my trusty Droid (among dozens of other pictures taken in "M"s company). A few months prior to that, during my last visit to Florida, I photographed "A" and "M" on the patio of the assisted living facility. They were sitting next to each other in the warm sunlight, both their heads of beautiful white hair shining brilliantly. "M" was leaning in towards "A" so that her big sister could hear her. They were also holding hands and smiling, in the way that loved ones do when they know that their time together may be very short but nonetheless precious.
I may never know what the quality of "A"s life was like before I met her that Thanksgiving of 2011. I suppose I could find out from her devoted caregiver and friend, if I chose to. But I think I prefer to remember "A" the way I knew her. Joyously, and loudly, singing holiday songs. Happily, but a bit messily, savoring her meals in a dining room full of eternally dedicated staff members dressed in extremely goofy attire. Holding her baby sister's hand on the patio, warmed by the sunlight and the memories of a gloriously shared youth. Watching tennis in her room, surrounded by photographs of loved ones, including her dear kitty cat.
Perhaps these times were not of the quality "A" had earlier in her life, but to me, they had a different kind of quality... one filled with frivolity and fun, but still characterized by a high degree of dignity and grace.
I can only hope that "M" continues to have more times such as these, even without her sister.
And I vow to relish the many more quality moments I intend to spend with "V".
The photo of "A" with her cat was the last one I ever received of her, and I am so grateful that it is saved somewhere in cyberspace on my trusty Droid (among dozens of other pictures taken in "M"s company). A few months prior to that, during my last visit to Florida, I photographed "A" and "M" on the patio of the assisted living facility. They were sitting next to each other in the warm sunlight, both their heads of beautiful white hair shining brilliantly. "M" was leaning in towards "A" so that her big sister could hear her. They were also holding hands and smiling, in the way that loved ones do when they know that their time together may be very short but nonetheless precious.
I may never know what the quality of "A"s life was like before I met her that Thanksgiving of 2011. I suppose I could find out from her devoted caregiver and friend, if I chose to. But I think I prefer to remember "A" the way I knew her. Joyously, and loudly, singing holiday songs. Happily, but a bit messily, savoring her meals in a dining room full of eternally dedicated staff members dressed in extremely goofy attire. Holding her baby sister's hand on the patio, warmed by the sunlight and the memories of a gloriously shared youth. Watching tennis in her room, surrounded by photographs of loved ones, including her dear kitty cat.
Perhaps these times were not of the quality "A" had earlier in her life, but to me, they had a different kind of quality... one filled with frivolity and fun, but still characterized by a high degree of dignity and grace.
I can only hope that "M" continues to have more times such as these, even without her sister.
And I vow to relish the many more quality moments I intend to spend with "V".
No comments:
Post a Comment