Family of One Interacts with Mother

You may know Mother. If you have not met her in person, you may feel as if you know Mother. She is very—unusual. She is 87, still lives at home with my dad, and still offers her opinions on everything. As she has gotten older, she has retained her beauty, but the filter that would keep one from being a little too honest has dissipated so that talking with her often requires the skills of the publicity handler for Jon and Kate.

For example, on a recent visit to High Point, Mother said in a very conversational tone as her attention was turned to the omnipresent Fox News, “do you regret that you never had any children?” She had never asked me anything so thoughtful or provocative about my choices, so I thought about my answer carefully. “Yes, I think it would have been wonderful to have had that experience and I think I would have been a good mother”. Very calmly, and without taking her gaze from the TV, Mother says, “you would have been a terrible mother. All you think about is where your next meal is coming from”. This was, shall we say, a bit shocking in its brutal assessment and, once again, I wanted to reply as calmly as possible. “I think that had I married one of the delightful men that I dated in my 20s or 30s, it would have been fine. I would have been a good wife and we both would have been good parents”. I was very pleased with this reasoned answer. Once again, without turning her head, “no, you cared just as much about where you were going to eat back then. It would have never worked out’.

So, it was not without a little alarm that I spoke with Mother last week about the possible demise of Aunt Louise, who is 93 and lives alone in an independent living facility. Her phone had been off the hook all day and Mother was convinced that she was lying dead on the floor. I tried to explain to her that since Aunt Louise wears a Life Alert necklace, we would know if she had been incapacitated and that we would have to accept that her phone was off the hook. Yes, it was very annoying to continue hearing her message, but, perhaps, a tiny break from dialing the phone every ten minutes was in order.

It was very troubling to both of us that we don’t know anyone at the “home”, as Mother calls it, who could check on Aunt Louise. I assured her that Aunt Louise would pick up the phone to make a call and all would be well.

Mother is nothing if not determined, so she called the management of the “home” to no avail. She then called and told me that she was going to take the extraordinary step (in her mind) of calling Bobby Auman, who used to deliver prescriptions for my father’s drugstore. As a rather new resident, Mother hated to impose on him and she was also not comfortable with the male/female dynamic involved, but she was getting really shrill, so I told her to go ahead.

Breathlessly, she called me back and reported that he would go over and check on her as soon as put his shirt on. Mother was slightly discomfited that he was watching TV shirtless. She stressed to him that “Aunt Louise is an old maid, so please don’t attempt to enter her apartment. Just call out her name and make sure she is alive”. She also encouraged him not to engage in further conversation as she would be waiting to hear from him. Mother is nothing if not focused in her requests.

Sure enough, Aunt Louise was happily watching her beloved Atlanta Braves and very annoyed by this needless drama and appearance of Bobby Auman at her door. Aunt Louise called Mother and there were sharp words exchanged, as one can imagine.

Thankfully, Mother spoke with the management of the “home” and she now has several numbers that she can call when she is worried.

As for me, I am just so grateful for the advent of texting which meant that I could engage with two dear long-distance friends who are having similar issues with their mothers.

It is at times like this that, as a Family of One, I wish that I had some company as I traverse the path of assisting aging parents. But, then again, I wouldn’t have Mother all to myself.