I had several nice days where my worries took a partial back seat. Mind you, they are always there but I am trying to reclaim my life and focus on de-stressing.

This sweet man is Al who has been a friend of the family for years. He is all together, brilliant, adorable, noble, kind. Name another wonderful adjective. We had lunch last week at a local Thai restaurant in honor of his upcoming birthday tomorrow: he will be ninety-four. He lives on his own, never complains, has a bit of a problem maneuvering and ambulating, but all in all he does more than the best he can. I had a fantasy that my mother would come up and share his apartment but of course that is ridiculous. I think it would have been cool if these two old people could share a space, some expenses, some laughs and memories. And a home health aide. Like I said, just a dream.

I spent Friday in da Bronx at a member’s preview of the latest exhibit at The New York Botanical Garden: on healing plants. Very interesting. I didn’t take a load of photos as there was a lot of information in text but it was enjoyable. What is most fascinating is that everything we need is provided by the earth, and ancient peoples were so evolved in treating illness and disease.

I was taken by the gold poppies, and yes there were medicinal properties noted.

Plants growing in rock help to cause splits and break the rock up.

Whenever I visit the New York Botanical Garden, there must be a stop at Borgatti’s in Little Italy for the best homemade pasta around. I know the Borgatti granddaughter so I like to take a few photos and display them for her as a surprise on Facebook.

Grandpa Borgatti

Uncle Chris at the pasta cutting machine.

On Saturday I got out for a great lunch with friends and a wonderful walk on Sands Point, the tip of Port Washington, Long Island and the Sands Point Preserve which was a Guggenheim estate.

[<<not my photo]

I spent Sunday afternoon in Brooklyn at a surprise baby shower. I know it sounds mundane but it was delightful, wonderful food and people, and for me, mundane means some relaxation. Mundane means free of worry. Or almost free of worry. Mundane means real.

Getting back to my mother, I was supposed to get some call backs from a social worker and a senior placement person today. I have been doing my own research and making contacts. I found a place that is on the “to visit list.”

I am trying to work out so many permutations, to sort through so many details, it is like chipping away at a mountain. I am trying to accommodate my mother’s wishes to preserve her dignity; isn’t there any place where she can have her own room?  I understand completely what the loss of one’s own space and privacy means. I would feel the same way. Why does this happen at the end of life, the time when the elderly should feel revered and respected? Instead they feel that they are about to be discarded.

For now I have made two steps forward but I retreat back to the what-if’s.

I take one step back.

This series is linked: see “continued here.” Also, below the line there will be links for the previous post and the next.

The series starts here

continued here