Scrambling

I could be talking about my brain.  But I'm just referring to the state of things.


 I've known for a while, that my mother was failing.  So I set up a loom at home, so when it came to staying home with her, I would still be able to weave.

 

 This is the 8 harness Macomber that I decided would be my "home loom".
A girl has to have a loom in every venue, you knew that right?

 The bench that came with it was hand made, and sweet, but too short for me.  So I found this one at the studio, that not only is the right height (crucial), but also seems to match the Macomber.

 

My mother has decided that she needs 24 hours nursing care.

She's right.

Her health has been in a rapid decline these last few months.

Unfortunately, she does not have the funds to pay  the $9000 a month it costs to stay in a nursing home, which means that we need to apply for Medicaid.

After a morning getting all the appropriate paperwork together, I went to Social Services to get this done.

Because my mother was not born in this country, I had to find her naturalization papers.

 

While I was sitting waiting for copies to be made, I was looking through my mother's wallet.
In behind the Medicare cards, and insurance cards, were pictures that just made me want to sit down and cry.


My mother and father, I think this is her first winter in the United States, 1946.

They were so young, and so much in love.  I guess they will be together again,  it's inevitable.

My grandmother and my Aunt Joyce back in England, in 1949.   I think about how my mother left them behind to marry my father.  It was an impulsive decision, and in later years a painful one when she realized that she had missed so much of their lives, and they hers.
 

 

 She saw her mother once more. 


She had a dream that my grandmother died, and the next week my father came home with the money to get her to the United States.  He took out a loan, just for her.
He picked up my grandmother in NYC, and she stayed with us for a year.   I was six, and don't really remember her. I was her first grandchild.  She went back to England and died of leukemia within the year.
 My mother didn't see her sister for 18 years.  1964.  A lifetime.
Things were different back then.  You just didn't pick up and fly wherever you wanted.


I am trying to do what has to be done.  I am taking care of my mother, and trying to help her with end of life issues.
But at the same time,  her life has been full,  and vibrant, and contemplating the end of that life is more than I can bear right now.