Mom Leaves Long-time Home, Gradually

Oct. 24, 2011

On Saturday, Mom and I went back to her home in Clinton Township after two weeks of her staying with me. She slowly rolled her walker through the chilly living room headed straight for Dad's room, the sunniest room in the small condo. She put on her brakes and looked around.  Then, still leaning on the walker, she looked straight at me with a heavy saddness: "I never knew that once someone died, we'd never see them again."

I started to say the thing about heaven. But I knew at that moment Mom, even though she's a devout Catholic, could not be comforted. In the couple weeks she had been with me and my family, she had asked to go home every few days. So we made a date to return there on Saturday, to clean out the refrigerator, to pick up a few things, to make sure everything was in order. That's what I said. But Mom had a different idea. She went looking for Dad.

In the 18 months since Dad died, it has become harder and harder for me to enter the condo. Even during the months that Mom had a 24-7 live-in caregiver or when we gathered for a family dinner, I wanted to leave almost as soon as I arrived.

Now, packing up Mom's clothes and emptying out the pantry was more than I could bear. Though nothing definitive was in the works, we all understood that Mom likely wasn't going back to the condo to live.

After Dad died, she had been adamant about staying in her own home. We did what we could to grant her that. But as her dementia progressed and she became more fragile, staying with one of us made more and more sense. And, this time, Mom didn't oppose. Almost too readily, she agreed to leave her home of 25 years, the home she and Dad had "downsized" into after the last of us had left them empty-nesters in a house that was too big and becoming increasingly unmanageable.

Dr. Cathy Lysack of Wayne State University's Institute of Gerontology recently completed research on the phenomenon of downsizing, the act of moving from one's long-time home into a smaller, more manageable space. She says the move is especially poignant because the elderly know it's likely their last. And she cautions well-meaning adult children to slow down, listen to their parents and make accommodations for whatever they want to take.

When it was time to leave, Mom asked only to take only a couple of photos of her and Dad.
Two hours earlier, Mom walked into the house sad, confused and looking for Dad. Now, as she left, she was lucid and present and reasonable.

Perhaps having the luxury of easing out of one’s long-time home rather than making a quick and final move, is a blessing. We can’t know for sure. But given that these are our circumstances, I choose to look at it that way. A blessing. What else can it be?

-- Anne Marie Gattari, 586.279.3610, am.gattari@brightstarcare.com