Making One Memory at a Time

 

Yesterday mom felt special that Jamie and I were there together to have lunch with her.  She had previously put in her request for more lonza and I had promised to honor her request.  Since Jamie was in St. Louis for Easter, I wanted to spend some quality time with him and I know mom felt the same way.  Sharing lonza with Jamie and Mom seemed the perfect way to accomplish this goal.

 

Jamie and I arrived minutes of each other and headed up to see mom, she was happy to see us both.   We set up a table in the smaller more private lunch room on the second floor and wheeled mom in.  Jamie suggested to mom that she might want to sit in the sun as mom tends to always be cold. She agreed and enjoyed the warmth of the sun on her back. 

 

As usual Al* was there feeding his wife at ‘their’ table. He is there three times a day seven days a week.  I would describe Al* as humble, loving, gentle and kind husband.  No matter how many times I see them together, I feel moved by his love and dedication to his wife.

 

Mom, Jamie and I feasted on the lonza the way we always did by placing a few slices of lonza on a slice of Italian bread.  The lonza has such a distinctive taste we would not want to ruin or hide the flavor by adding any type of condiment like we would put on a ham sandwich. I was brought up not really considering lonza to be sandwich material as even a tomato or lettuce would disrupt the wonderful taste. We each seemed to savor every bite.  I also brought some cheese to eat with the bread like we had done so many times before.

 

 



 

Having lonza together brought back wonderful memories of sitting around our kitchen table when we were kids eating our favorite Italian delicacy.

 

While we were eating, mom said, “How do you think I look?  Does this outfit go together?”

 

“No, mom, your top is blue and black and your sweater is black with several shades of gold.”

 

“I knew it.  I told the aide, but she still put it on me.”

 

“When we are done eating, we will go and switch your top sweater to your solid black one.”

 

 

Mom agreed nodding her head approvingly.

 

I grabbed my phone and took a snapshot of mom and Jamie.  Mom said, “Get someone to take all three of us.”

 

 

I stepped out and found Dana* at the nurses’ station.  She gladly took our photo.

 



 

As promised after we finished eating, we wheeled mom to her room.  While Jamie was assisting mom with her sweater, I was straightening her closet.

 

“The aide is always complaining that my roommates’ closets are messy,” mom commented. 

 

“Maybe they do not have someone who organizes their closets and hangs up their clothes.”

 

“They don’t.  I tell them my daughter does mine.”

 

“I try to put things that coordinate together to make it easy for your aides to choose clothes that match for you.”

 

“They just pick something and put it on me.”

 

“I know they can be in a hurry that is why I organize your closet each time I visit.”

 

 

Mom wanted the Virgin Mary‘s picture (Aunt Jay had given her) moved so she can look at her photo. 

 

When mom had initially seen us, she showed me that one of her fingernails had a rough edge so I filed her nail until her nail's edge was smooth.   She also wanted some hand lotion massaged into her hands.  Someone once mentioned that a gentle hand massage is one of the nicest gestures that an elderly can truly enjoy.  This gesture comforts both the receiver and the giver.

Prior to us leaving mom said, “I ask the Lord to bless my family and keep them all safe.”

 

“A perfect prayer, mom,” Jamie stated.

 

Staying on the subject mom commented, “God forgive us our sins.”

 

 

“How true, mom, we all need forgiveness.”

 

Jamie and I hugged and kissed mom, she responded, “What would I do without my kids?”

 

“Mom, you don’t have to worry.  We’re here.” I said.

Mom smiled and blew us kisses.