Tribute to a Mother

We take the miraculous as commonplace because it happens every day. And then you find yourself cutting the first piece of hospital chicken for your mother, and you realize that you cannot even begin to repay the debt.

An amazing story of tribute, James Lileks remembers his mother in the days after her passing...

Three Cousins Chat

Trishymouse says:
hey you guys - how is everyone?
bettyboop says:
doing good here too
Trishymouse says:
I'd be better if it was 70 outside
bettyboop says:
me too, its very cold out here
dellee@zianet.com says:
Well it has been that here for most of the winter. Really had a mild one here this year. ad a few 40 and 50 degree days but mostly short sleeve. I was out raking today to get some pine needles out of the yard.
dellee@zianet.com says:
Well i Betty got both of you. How neat.
bettyboop says:
yes Kool
bettyboop says:
We visited Mom last Thursday night
dellee@zianet.com says:
How is your Mom doing?
Trishymouse says:
Mom was shakey when she woke up at first, but as the visit progressed she was more and more coherent except for saying Laverne Wood was holding the Olympics...I think she meant to say something about hosting a party or something...a memory...
dellee@zianet.com says:
It eally blew my mind when Mom thought 2 weeks ago that grandma was still alive.
dellee@zianet.com says:
She was with grandma when she died.
Trishymouse says:
Did she tell you anything about that?
dellee@zianet.com says:
Yes she use to talk about it a lot. Grandmas diabetes had gotten out of control so why Mom returned her to the nursing home. Mom was with her and I guess grandma had a bad head ache. SAnd had gotten real bad with the diabetis. Grandma went into a convulsion and Mom held her head and hands as she died.
Trishymouse says:
Was Grandma conscious at the time?
Trishymouse says:
Did she say anything before?
dellee@zianet.com says:
Up until she went into the convulsion yes.
dellee@zianet.com says:
I think she was telling Mom about the headache. Mom always sort of blamed the nursing home as Grandma had the headache for several days I guess but noone seemed to do anything about it.
Trishymouse says:
I don't blame her. That's definitely a sign of something. Nowadays they'd probably scan her and there are meds available today that might help that weren't available in 1974...but at least she went fast...
dellee@zianet.com says:
Mom always felt if they had had the Dr. at her and find out why her head hurt so bad they maybe could have done something.
Trishymouse says:
Could have been another stroke, or as you said related to diabetes...
dellee@zianet.com says:
Yes I am sure that is what it was. I know a friend in Bemidji also had strokes and then when he had the final one that killed him he too went into convulsions.
Trishymouse says:
I don't know about you, but when looking at our Mom, it's like the clock is winding down, her body is slowly stopping. When I mentioned that to Mom and Thursday, she motioned like she was winding, and said, "Wind it back up then!" We laughed and said, that would be nice...
Trishymouse says:
Poor brain goes kafooey
dellee@zianet.com says:
Yes Mom too. Slowly things are working less and less. e mind gets foggier and foggier and legs are getting so weak. I have a call in to talk to the Dr. but he won't be in til next week.
Trishymouse says:
We've at least been able to make her as comfortable as possible. All her dental work has been caught up so no more pain or discomfort there. She has good reading glasses - and this pair have NOT been lost, knock on wood!

Struggling to Stay "Here"

Our Mom is about the same as yours, i.e., sometimes totally 'here', and other times the mind wanders. I can tell that Mom is working hard at keeping things straight sometimes. She has said more than once getting old stinks. I believe her...

When an old lady died in the geriatric ward of a small hospital near Dundee, Scotland, it was believed that she had nothing left of any value.

Later, when the nurses were going through her meager possessions, they found this poem. It's quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital.

One nurse took her copy to Ireland. The old lady's sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas edition of the News Magazine of the North Ireland Assn. for Mental Health.

A slide presentation has also been made based on her simple, but eloquent poem.

And this little old Scottish lady, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this "anonymous" poem winging across the Internet:

Crabby Old Woman

What do you see, nurses?
What do you see?
What are you thinking,
When you're looking at me?

A crabby old woman,
Not very wise,
Uncertain of habit,
With faraway eyes.

Who dribbles her food,
And makes no reply,
When you say in a loud voice,
"I do wish you'd try!"

Who seems not to notice,
The things that you do,
And forever is losing,
A stocking or shoe

Who, resisting or not
Lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding,
The long day to fill?

Is that what you're thinking?
Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse,
You're not looking at me.

I'll tell you who I am,
As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding,
As I eat at your will.


I'm a small child of ten,
With a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters,
Who love one another.

A young girl of sixteen,
With wings on her feet,
Dreaming that soon now,
A lover she'll meet.

A bride soon at twenty,
My heart gives a leap,
Remembering the vows,
That I promised to keep.

At twenty-five now,
I have young of my own,
Who need me to guide,
And a secure happy home.

A woman of thirty,
My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other,
With ties that should last.

At forty, my young sons,
Have grown and are gone,
But my man's beside me,
To see I don't mourn.

At fifty once more,
Babies play round my knee,
Again we know children,
My loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me,
My husband is dead,
I look at the future,
I shudder with dread.

For my young are all rearing,
Young of their own,
And I think of the years,
And the love that I've known.

I'm now an old woman,
And nature is cruel,
'Tis jest to make old age,
Look like a fool.

The body, it crumbles,
Grace and vigor depart,
There is now a stone,
Where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass,
A young girl still dwells,
And now and again,
My battered heart swells.

I remember the joys,
I remember the pain,
And I'm loving and living,
Life over again.

I think of the years,
All too few, gone too fast,
And accept the stark fact,
That nothing can last.

So open your eyes, people,
Open and see,
Not a crabby old woman;
Look closer - see ME!!

Remember this poem when you next meet an old person who you might brush aside without looking at the young soul within. We will all, one day, be there, too!