In which I lose a part of myself

The last week has been one of the hardest that I have ever experienced, and that is saying something considering some of the ‘adventures’ that I have experienced in my life.

   As I have told you in previous articles, last February I ‘adopted’ my step uncle’s widow and became her caregiver and trustee. I had no idea what I was getting into. No. Idea. Once I moved her from Nevada to live in a retirement community near my house, and once I got all the legal and financial affairs in order as her trustee, we began a new chapter of our lives together.

   Every Monday I took her pastries, and when I walked into her apartment she would look up and her faded, but still bright, blue eyes would light up. “Oh goody, treats!” she would say. It was always a delightful surprise to her because her short term memory often ‘short circuited’ – that was our phrase to describe her situation – and so every Monday morning pastry delivery was a delight.

   My aunt was a speech therapist for thirty years and a prolific reader, and as a result she had a rich vocabulary. ‘Evidently’ and ‘indubitably’ were the kinds of words that peppered her talks with me. This did not, however, preclude her from saying “goody” when pastries were presented to her. I always found this very funny. Another phrase that made me smile was when she said, “come on, butt, time to get up” when she needed to get out of her chair. Seeing my very proper little aunt, with her coordinated outfit, her matching necklace, and her carefully coiffured hair use use the word “butt” did not ‘fit’ her ever present ladylike demeanor.

   On Tuesdays I would take her a bouquet of fresh flowers for her little dining table. She always had an orchid on her coffee table, but she loved bright colors and flowers so I made sure that she also had fresh flowers every week. She also liked taking care of them; giving them fresh water and checking on them gave her something to do. Tuesday was also the day when I did her shopping and got her ‘pocket money’ from the bank if she needed any. 

   Wednesday was her hair day. There is a salon in her building and she had a standing appointment to go downstairs for a wash and set every Wednesday afternoon. When I visited her in the morning I would remind her about the appointment, and pointed out that it was written on the activity calendar that I filled in for her every week. Lately, as her memory short circuited more often, it became necessary for me to go over to her apartment complex to escort her to her appointment so that she did not forget to go. Oh, how she loved having her hair done. Having flat curls was a big no no in her book, and often I was tasked with ‘fluffing’ them up with her special comb in between salon sessions. I confess that I was not very good at this at first as I have dead straight hair and don’t know the first thing about how to boost up a flagging curl, but I learned.

   On Thursdays I would collect her laundry, which I did for her at my house. It was also the day when I

would sometimes read to her, or we would do a puzzle together. I am not a fan of doing puzzles, but she liked to, so we would work on one together, sitting at her little dining table.

   On Fridays I took her laundry back and we would do some housekeeping. I would check around the apartment to see if anything needing doing, and made sure that her pantry was well stocked with her snacks, drinks, protein bars, and sweets.

On days when she was feeling “zippy” I would take Martha for a drive around town so that she would get a change of scene. We went to the local bookshops a few times. The children’s bookshop especially delighted her. She thought it was so wonderful that some “clever” person had decided to create a bookshop just for youngsters. We even bought a book there that she wanted me to have. We also went to some of the other stores in town, where she looked at the offerings with amazement. She had always shopped in department stores so Ashland’s eclectic boutiques left her round eyed and charmed.

   As we drove around town I often I pointed out the Little Free Libraries that locals have set up in front their homes. She was enchanted by the whole idea, and I told her the story of how one man’s idea had led to the creation of the Little Free Library network. I even showed her how you can find Little Free Libraries on an app on a cell phone.

   I came to realize that Martha’s life had been very subscribed and did my best to show her all the ‘new’ innovations that she had missed out on. She had a deep interest in people and their doings, so ‘discovering’ the world of Spotify, Netflix, eBooks, and Wikipedia was eye-opening for her. I so enjoyed sharing these things with her, and kept a list in my phone of the things that I encountered in my days that I thought that she would like to know about.

   I own a large collection of beautiful illustrated books for both adult and young readers, and once I learned what interested her, I would take some over each week for her to explore. She was utterly amazed at the beauty and information contained in these books.  She had never seen books like them. An illustrated atlas of world history from my library permanently lived at her apartment because she loved to look it. 

   Over the last month or so I spent more time with Martha as her clock started to slow down. I would take a book with me and just keep her company. Or we would watch a television program together. I took videos of my dogs for her to watch, and shared photos of the farm so that she could see the improvements that we have been working on. Her arms and legs were starting to ache, and since she refused to see a doctor, I did the best I could to ease the discomfort by giving her warm showers and gently rubbing warming lotion into her limbs.

   Generally I took the weekends ‘off’ from my care giving duties, other than taking care her of her mail and bills, but I always called her on the phone to check on her and to tell her what I was up to. She loved hearing about the antics of my dogs and always asked about my husband, and wanted to know “how is his wine doing?”

   Martha left this world last Wednesday morning after two very horrible days when her health went into freefall. Since then my days have been packed with dealing with paperwork, death notifications, selling her furniture, and donating her clothes, books, and housewares.

   Two days ago I had to remind myself that it was not Pastry Monday. It broke my heart. Without my realizing it, Martha’s life had become woven into my world so thoroughly that when she passed away I was left with a very large void in my daily doings, and a painful tear in my emotional fabric.

   I knew that when she left I would grieve, but I severely underestimated how deep that grief would be and what form it would take. Martha told me, when we both realized that she was running out of time, not to grieve for her. Sorry my dear Mizzy (my nickname for her) but this is one request that I am not going to be able to fulfill.

   This weekend Brian and I are going to go to our favorite garden nursery and we are going to buy a tree for Mizzy, which is what we did when my father died many years ago. We will place her ashes there, and as she wished, she will become one with a beautiful tree that we will love and care for as long as we live on this farm. 

Art by Tatian Ko