What is it about weathermen and snow forecasts? Instead of a foot, we have barely half an inch on the ground outside. They’re still calling for a bunch more today, but the sky is blue and clear from horizon to horizon.
Why does this remind me of my mother?
The last time I went out to Tucson, she was “dying.” After I got there, with no one to say farewell to or bury, the mission was unclear, although the sensation of being pulled into a whirlpool was not. I saw that she had inexplicably moved from a large, beautifully-situated and luxuriously-equipped doublewide to a wretched little singlewide she’d bought for $50K cash. No one in her right mind would have bought that one at all, much less paid double what it was worth, much less exhausting money needed for her care! I ran into the unscrupulous realtor and gave her a piece of my mind, scaring her to death: she spent the next few days trying to secretly call my mother so the two of them could coordinate their stories and the realtor avoid whatever punishment (if any) awaits those who prey on the elderly in Arizona.
The old lady simply wasn’t in her right mind. She phased in and out between the usual accusations and bitterness (“You’re just like your father!“) and the quiet, sing-song patter of a little girl. It was a chilling thing to witness. My brother was perfectly capable of looking after her like he had always done, but the emotional blows emanating from our mother were extreme — with less self-awareness than the situation required, he was vulnerable and easily fell into impossible-to-win arguments and frustration. I was little different at the time. My own freakout meter was off the dial: what in God’s name were we to do?
I tried everything I could think of. Excoriating distant siblings for their lack of involvement did no good. They needed to protect themselves like I did, and yet I couldn’t, because I was there in the middle of it. My mother would have no talk of nursing homes or assisted living, insisting on staying in her dark, leaky tomb until she died. I took her to a doctor, hoping for assistance in getting her into a care facility of some kind — he told me to leave her at the emergency room door… I tried another doctor. This one drove me out of my mind by advising “family counseling” and sicced Adult Protective Services on me. I visited a couple of lawyers and initiated proceedings to have the old woman declared incompetent, so that I could get control of her assets, stop the financial bleeding, and move her into a better place. They sent a social worker to interview her, but she passed the test, mustering enough sanity to complain about her children and further endanger us. The next day I called off the lawyers, who agreed that Mother was just not far gone enough for this to be a “slam dunk” case. My only choice, it appeared, was waiting until the old lady went screaming bonkers or fell down and broke her hip, whereupon some action could be mounted. That was when my mother refused to hear another word on any subject and threw me out, screaming, “I DON’T NEED YOU ANY MORE, JOHNNY!” and I high-tailed it out of Dodge.
That was August, 2008.
In the last few weeks, I’ve had three phone calls from the scene of the crime. She tells me my brother isn’t in his right mind, and he says the same of her. I can’t take anything she says for truth, although she could drive a statue into permanent psychosis, so one never knows. She’s talking about putting more money into the rathole where she lives, while a perfectly good home sits vacant several blocks away, with cockroaches roaming over abandoned family mementos. My brother is arguing more heatedly with her, and who can blame him? He also has no means of support except what I send him from our mother’s account for taking care of her. If she ever did go into a nursing home, those checks might have to stop. We’d need to sell off everything she owns to pay for extended care, and there might not be anything left over to distribute after she goes. I don’t think he’s aware of this or has a plan. Whom do I sacrifice, my mother or my brother?*
The silence from my family is understandable. No one can deal with her. I realized last night that even if I did acquire the power to move her back to her old home and set the finances right, we’d never be able to retain professional live-in care for her, because no one could stand it. And in the midst of this, of course, my brother could be starving.
But we didn’t have a blizzard last night here in Taos… And somehow, from year to year, the situation in poor Tucson maintains a sinking equilibrium of sorts. Resolution, if ever there is any, will have to come from God.
Meanwhile (aside from phone calls from Arizona), my own life continues unfolding, deeper, richer, more love falling on me every day — everyone’s rightful heritage as human beings on the planet Earth! How strange it is that no wish, no prayer, no amount of good intentions can be counted on to penetrate the private hell of others. How stranger still when these share my DNA, my history, my former life…
Strange, but true. All is actually right with the world, then, so long as I don’t try to understand.
* Bill, if you’re reading this, check your email or call!
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