Our Peeps
On a recent trip to visit my elderly mom in her assisted living center, I learned the deeper appreciation for our relationships with others (our friends).
While mom has the overwhelming need to connect with others, more than I have observed over the course of my lifetime that I have shared with her, it is on this visit I truly understand this need in all of us. These connections now thrive without judgement of self or others, they exist with acceptance of differences and limitations, and they are alive with innocent openness and desire.
On this occasion at dinner, Mom introduces me to her friend in Room 212, a retired actress and singer: Having butternut with dinner, she asked “Why don’t I taste the nut in this dish?” While she insisted her taste buds were trained and picked up the butter in butternut, bite after bite, she was unable to taste the “nut”. I explained that butternut was the name of the vegetable in the squash family and that it was without nuts and only a name. “Oh”, she replied, and moved on to the chicken beside the vegetable. A few minutes later and another swallow of butternut, we reviewed the conversation again. Having occurred several times during the course of dinner, each time resulted in new awareness for butternut, a vegetable without butter or nuts, Mom exclaims, “Isn’t my friend delightful?”
In the lobby one afternoon, Mom does not recognize one of her friends we are sitting beside from Room 131, a retired teacher. Realizing she has a small audience, she begins reciting (in entirety and by memory!), The Cremation of Sam Magee, written by Robert Service in 1907 with 13 stanzas and 2 repeating verses of 8 lines! (I could not accomplish this even in my “right mind”!). Patiently and arduously sitting through this poetic monologue, Mom concludes, “Isn’t my friend amazing?”
This time at lunch, Mom chooses to sit across from her friend in Room 108, a retired Air Force Lieutenant Colonel. He explained his position in several historical battles and discussed the idiosyncrasies of working for a young commercial airlines while raising a family. He excitedly and with animation, described his new “ride”: an electric, souped up, bright red wheelchair/scooter complete with sideview mirrors and headlights. With adoration and a smile, Mom pronounces, “Isn’t my friend brave?”
Mom’s friend from Room 220, a young woman with early onset Alzheimers, is down the hall from her own room. When passing by her doorway often left ajar to welcome any possible visitor, Mom pauses to check in with her. Several rounds of dialectic questioning occurred to which her friend’s answers remained consistent, unwavering, and with an emphatic, “Is that so?”, as if every detail provided new insight. With friendly laughter, Mom exudes enthusiasm and states, “Isn’t my friend remarkable?”
Thanks Mom for celebrating and sharing your friends - to appreciate them without judgement, and with acceptance to find them delightful, amazing, brave, and remarkable!