This time four years ago my mother, 96 year old Marjorie Elizabeth, was living in the loving home of my sister and brother in-law in Ottawa, Canada. Dealing with dementia, Mom nonetheless had a good quality of life sharing her days with an amazing caregiver Helen, and her beloved pet parrot Mandela, whom she often called Rembrandt! Go figure. Mom was an amateur artist, focusing on landscapes and florals, so perhaps the Rembrandt connection. She loved that noisy bird even though her pet tolerated no one but his owner, squawking and swooping when others entered “his” room. My mother was so well supported by my siblings, her caregivers, friends and Rembrandt, that it seemed to me she would live forever.
The day before Mother’s Day that year I was in our lake home in Kelowna British Columbia. I received a call from my Ottawa family. “Mom is deteriorating. Get here fast.” My first reaction was denial. My mother had made it this far. Surely we we would share her 100 birthday just as we had celebrated her 90th with music, dancing and plenty of good food. As reality sunk in, I prepared for the trip. Gathering some clothes and packing up other essentials, I headed to our capital city. That was Mother’s Day 2016.
Ottawa is a beautiful city boasting wide canals, luscious parks and elegant parliament buildings. When I landed that day in May, the sun was shining and the trees were in bud. The charming scenery helped ease my anxiety as I approached my sister’s Rockcliff home. The house was particularly quiet. My siblings, usually exuberant and boisterous, were restrained- talking to me in whispered greetings.
Mom’s room was as hushed as the rest of the household. Her usual duvet covered bed was replaced by a narrow hospital gurney. Helen was in the midst of sponge bathing my mom’s abnormally thin body. A familiar image, a crucifix, hung over her bed attesting to her life long devotion to Catholicism.
Mom was dozing when I entered and Helen gently aroused her. She looked up- seemingly a little startled. As Mom gazed my way, a smile began. “Hi Kath”, she murmured with a big smile. “ Happy Easter!”
This might seem a sad remembrance of my mother Marjorie. Truthfully though, my mom’s beaming welcome to me will be an enduring memory. Easter is a time of renewal, and celebrates resurrection. It symbolizes a Catholic’s belief in life after death. So Mom, here’s to you. I love celebrating special days with you. Happy Easter!
