Rushing to the nursing home after school today I hoped Mom would still be awake. It's her normal shower day and it tends to wear her out to the point of "sawing wood" when she dozes off in her lounge chair. I found her wide awake and smelling sweet from her bath time, and was astounded to see the hospice aide had dried and curled Mom's nearly white hair. The new "do" softened her features and made me yearn for the days when our curly headed mother with the big smile would greet us all with hugs at the door when we visited. It was truly bitter sweet, and brought tears to my eyes.
As usual, though, Mom dozed off as I was talking to her. I work very hard not to take it personally, assuming it isn't my daily stories rehashing my day that cause her to go into hiding behind her nearly translucent eyelids. She loves my company, of that I have no doubt. My presence brings her some peace and security in the chaotic moments she survives each day on her unit. I understand now that, when she holds my hand and dozes off, she is comforted and feels safe in my company. She is able to relax and rest.
I also found a flower on Mom's pillow today. Some benevolent soul had placed an unopened daffodil on each resident's bed. A true sign of spring and the hope it brings our tired, winter souls is unequalled. Mom, like many of the residents, was oblivious to the gift, although I did attempt to get her to notice the sunshine yellow of the bloom by waving it under her nose. I brought the bud home with me to place in a vase on my kitchen island, a bright reminder from nature to let our light shine, no matter how hard winter is trying to hang on right now.
I sent my silent thanks to the secret flower girl or guy, and hope they somehow know they truly brought some sunshine into my life today.
A warm country hug to all,