Please join us in San Francisco to celebrate Elizabeth's awesome life.
Saturday November 5 - 2pm
Unity SF
2222 Bush (@ Fillmore)
San Francisco, CA
We will be having service in Tulsa too -
at the All Souls Unitarian Church - 10 am on Saturday December 3, 2011
For most current info go to: http://www.eehager.com/ESHmemorial.html
In memory donations ( in lieu of flowers):
Coming Home Hospice Foundation - in memory of Elizabeth S. Hager for the tender and cheerful care that Betty received for the last eight months:
Coming Home Hospice Foundation
FTID # 94-2728423
115 Diamond St,
San Francisco, CA 94114
Your cards are also appreciated:
Eleesa Hager 1032 Chestnut St., Oakland, CA 94607;
Ted Hager 4852 N. Farmstead, Wichita, KS 67220
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Betty Obit - Death on Sunday Oct 23, 2011
Elizabeth Stowell Hager
July 14, 1922 to October 23, 2011
Here is her tentative obit.
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
Elizabeth Stowell Hager, 89 a longtime Tulsa resident who retired (and ran off) to San Francisco died peacefully on Sunday October 23, 2011 in San Francisco from a decade of “the long goodbye” of dementia.
Born in 1922, two years after Women’s Sufferage, she did her best to be a better man in a man’s world. Elizabeth S. Hager married five times and outlived them all. She came into the world in a sod house on the Nebraska prairie of Scotts Bluff and left the world in San Francisco – having lived most of her life in Tulsa, Oklahoma.
She was the first born child to Fred and Annie Stowell and shouldered the aspirations of generations of beautiful and strong women in her line. In 1939 she left Tulsa at 17 with a full scholarship to USC and graduated with honors in Accounting. After the war, she came back to Tulsa to successfully pass her CPA exam and win the seat of Tulsa City Auditor 1954 to 1956.
She was only the 2nd woman elected in Tulsa to public office and served in the L. C. Clark administration and brought an early version of computers to modernize Tulsa City Government finances. She was the 26th female CPA licensed in the state - certificate number #936, the first woman chapter President of the Tulsa OSCPA chapter 1981-1982 and an AICPA Honorary Member for more than 50 years of membership.
She had many accounting businesses and husbands. Jack P. Anderson was the father of her son John F. Anderson, now deceased. John W. Hager, an emeritus Tulsa University Law Professor, was her husband and father of her other two children – Ted and Eleesa. David Lowrey was her last husband. She loved them all and they loved her back.
She was a generous, and gifted woman that shared her sharp wit and largess with her family and friends. She was a longtime member of the All Souls Unitarian Church that she worked for diligently until she moved to San Francisco in 1996 to be the CFO of her daughter’s technology firm.
She is survived by 3 brothers: Jim Stowell of Texas, Fred Stowell of Tulsa, Dan Stowell of Connecticut, and 2 children: her daughter Eleesa Elizabeth Hager of San Francisco and her son John Theodore Hager of Wichita, KS. She has 4 granddaughters and 1 grandson in Kansas and in Florida.
In short she was awesome. An era has ended and she will be sorely missed.
Please go to http://www.eehager.com/ESHmemorial.html for information on memorial services in San Francisco and Tulsa and memorial fund. She will be interred in Tulsa at Memorial Park Cemetery Park.
July 14, 1922 to October 23, 2011
Here is her tentative obit.
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
Elizabeth Stowell Hager, 89 a longtime Tulsa resident who retired (and ran off) to San Francisco died peacefully on Sunday October 23, 2011 in San Francisco from a decade of “the long goodbye” of dementia.
Born in 1922, two years after Women’s Sufferage, she did her best to be a better man in a man’s world. Elizabeth S. Hager married five times and outlived them all. She came into the world in a sod house on the Nebraska prairie of Scotts Bluff and left the world in San Francisco – having lived most of her life in Tulsa, Oklahoma.
She was the first born child to Fred and Annie Stowell and shouldered the aspirations of generations of beautiful and strong women in her line. In 1939 she left Tulsa at 17 with a full scholarship to USC and graduated with honors in Accounting. After the war, she came back to Tulsa to successfully pass her CPA exam and win the seat of Tulsa City Auditor 1954 to 1956.
She was only the 2nd woman elected in Tulsa to public office and served in the L. C. Clark administration and brought an early version of computers to modernize Tulsa City Government finances. She was the 26th female CPA licensed in the state - certificate number #936, the first woman chapter President of the Tulsa OSCPA chapter 1981-1982 and an AICPA Honorary Member for more than 50 years of membership.
She had many accounting businesses and husbands. Jack P. Anderson was the father of her son John F. Anderson, now deceased. John W. Hager, an emeritus Tulsa University Law Professor, was her husband and father of her other two children – Ted and Eleesa. David Lowrey was her last husband. She loved them all and they loved her back.
She was a generous, and gifted woman that shared her sharp wit and largess with her family and friends. She was a longtime member of the All Souls Unitarian Church that she worked for diligently until she moved to San Francisco in 1996 to be the CFO of her daughter’s technology firm.
She is survived by 3 brothers: Jim Stowell of Texas, Fred Stowell of Tulsa, Dan Stowell of Connecticut, and 2 children: her daughter Eleesa Elizabeth Hager of San Francisco and her son John Theodore Hager of Wichita, KS. She has 4 granddaughters and 1 grandson in Kansas and in Florida.
In short she was awesome. An era has ended and she will be sorely missed.
Please go to http://www.eehager.com/ESHmemorial.html for information on memorial services in San Francisco and Tulsa and memorial fund. She will be interred in Tulsa at Memorial Park Cemetery Park.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Dancing at the Cain's Ballroom
Yesterday, there were no smiles from Betty. She seems to be conserving energy.
There were kisses returned from me and blown across the room – albeit weakly - to her caregivers. They are a new family now of more than 8 months of exchanging care with Betty. She let them know - through touch, that universal language – that she was deeply grateful. A very civil exchange - no drama - that cut through a lot of human separation and isolation. Many mention "She rubbed my back when I leaned over to change her." Or "She patted my hand when I was helping her."
She just took permission. This remnant of who she was in the world, is still echoing for me and any others that knew her and are still here (e.g. alive and awake) to look.
We had two calls from ones that are still of this world: two brothers of her three. I have a favorite brother - but I have grown to accept and (sometimes) even appreciate the other two.
I appreciate Jim. A career Marine, and pilot now retired, " Jim is in the early stages of Alzheimers..." says Vianne, his wife introducing the call. Vianne is a Middle West woman that was put on this Earth - like a prairie Quan Yin Goddess or a Mother Teresa who is content with tending her own garden. She is sweet and appreciated like a remembering of your wonderful, cool swimming hole from a hot childhood summer.
"He won't talk much but probably just listen." She explained.
I put it on speaker phone and spoke to Betty. "Hey my darling, it is your brother Jim on the line." She looked hard at my face for clues as to what is happening.
She listened.
Silence.
Jim listened too.
Silence.
I resisted my 'good woman", (social lubricant) impulse to fill in the conversation. It was their - probably - last conversation they would ever have. I thought about my dead brother and wished for that sweet chance.
Jim reached out, " Betty? Are you there?
Betty nodded her head.
Silence.
"Jim," I said " "She is absorbing your voice - keep talking."
"Betty, I am about 10 years behind you. I will see you then. We can be together again in 10 years. I love you."
I could see my mother trying to process this. Present time was very confusing already. She has two granddaughters in Wichita that are 5"9 and 6.0. That is confusing. She has a middle aged daughter - (me.) That is confusing. She has a body that is not working - that is confusing. Where are all her husbands and why are they not here? That is confusing. Did you say it was 2011? THAT IS CONFUSING. But her career Marine, brother talking about the afterlife...
She did what we humans do every day of our lives, she edited out what did not fit.
She recognized his voice.
"Jim?" Her expression changed; it softened; something very sweet was remembered.
"I love you, too."
...and all that really matters - they said it. It was complete.
My favorite Uncle called later in the afternoon from Tulsa. The conversation with Rick and Jessica painted a picture for Betty of a vibrant downtown Tulsa, where they were going dancing at the Cain's Ballroom - Rick even stepped into the Ballroom where the music was happily blaring - "Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys' were there - without Bob and with the Tulsa Playboys. She smiled.
They said that All Souls (our church in Tulsa, that I was born into) had grown to be too big for their Sanctuary on Peoria St. and they are looking to move downtown.
"You were so involved in All Souls when you were here, I knew you would be interested."
Betty said " We are interested, Thank you." It was the first full sentence from her today.
Such happy news - I saw Betty, wanting to go home, to Tulsa and partake of the party that she started there. She had danced at the Cain's many times.
"We love you, Betty." said Rick for them both.
" I love you, too."
There were kisses returned from me and blown across the room – albeit weakly - to her caregivers. They are a new family now of more than 8 months of exchanging care with Betty. She let them know - through touch, that universal language – that she was deeply grateful. A very civil exchange - no drama - that cut through a lot of human separation and isolation. Many mention "She rubbed my back when I leaned over to change her." Or "She patted my hand when I was helping her."
She just took permission. This remnant of who she was in the world, is still echoing for me and any others that knew her and are still here (e.g. alive and awake) to look.
We had two calls from ones that are still of this world: two brothers of her three. I have a favorite brother - but I have grown to accept and (sometimes) even appreciate the other two.
I appreciate Jim. A career Marine, and pilot now retired, " Jim is in the early stages of Alzheimers..." says Vianne, his wife introducing the call. Vianne is a Middle West woman that was put on this Earth - like a prairie Quan Yin Goddess or a Mother Teresa who is content with tending her own garden. She is sweet and appreciated like a remembering of your wonderful, cool swimming hole from a hot childhood summer.
"He won't talk much but probably just listen." She explained.
I put it on speaker phone and spoke to Betty. "Hey my darling, it is your brother Jim on the line." She looked hard at my face for clues as to what is happening.
She listened.
Silence.
Jim listened too.
Silence.
I resisted my 'good woman", (social lubricant) impulse to fill in the conversation. It was their - probably - last conversation they would ever have. I thought about my dead brother and wished for that sweet chance.
Jim reached out, " Betty? Are you there?
Betty nodded her head.
Silence.
"Jim," I said " "She is absorbing your voice - keep talking."
"Betty, I am about 10 years behind you. I will see you then. We can be together again in 10 years. I love you."
I could see my mother trying to process this. Present time was very confusing already. She has two granddaughters in Wichita that are 5"9 and 6.0. That is confusing. She has a middle aged daughter - (me.) That is confusing. She has a body that is not working - that is confusing. Where are all her husbands and why are they not here? That is confusing. Did you say it was 2011? THAT IS CONFUSING. But her career Marine, brother talking about the afterlife...
She did what we humans do every day of our lives, she edited out what did not fit.
She recognized his voice.
"Jim?" Her expression changed; it softened; something very sweet was remembered.
"I love you, too."
...and all that really matters - they said it. It was complete.
My favorite Uncle called later in the afternoon from Tulsa. The conversation with Rick and Jessica painted a picture for Betty of a vibrant downtown Tulsa, where they were going dancing at the Cain's Ballroom - Rick even stepped into the Ballroom where the music was happily blaring - "Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys' were there - without Bob and with the Tulsa Playboys. She smiled.
They said that All Souls (our church in Tulsa, that I was born into) had grown to be too big for their Sanctuary on Peoria St. and they are looking to move downtown.
"You were so involved in All Souls when you were here, I knew you would be interested."
Betty said " We are interested, Thank you." It was the first full sentence from her today.
Such happy news - I saw Betty, wanting to go home, to Tulsa and partake of the party that she started there. She had danced at the Cain's many times.
"We love you, Betty." said Rick for them both.
" I love you, too."
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Letting go of a melody
Betty's eyes were set deeper than the night before. She is having trouble speaking (when she is motivated to do so.)
She spoke several times that night - the most memorable to me was when Joy the lovely hospice angel asked her "Betty, do you have any pain?" Betty is on morphine now to ease her anxiety - mostly.
Betty (of the wicked sense of humor and irony was back for a moment and) answered, "Only when Eleesa is here." She squeezed my hand.
It is not just me or us that have to let Betty go. She has to let us go - Of course. I just forgot that. It is easy to loose track of gravity in this quantum world between worlds.
Betty is trying to let go now - I think.
I saw it in the two "AWESOME" phone calls that I had planned for her.
I called my Aunt Mary - really a sister to me and to Betty. Mary Mary, as we call her for some reason known only to Betty, is usually an inspiration and rock in crisis. I have always counted on her for humor and perspective in the deepest valleys of thought.
"Hi, Betty. How are you?"
"I'm feel fine." It was more croak than voice.
"What are you doing?" Betty did not answer - which was the saddest of pauses because to break the pattern of rote intro was to admit she was beyond it - something - Beyone what ? trappings of civil discourse? structures of dailiness?
She was just husbanding her energy now - I think.
"Oh, Betty." Mary Mary was only human today. She had lost much of her superpower on her own massive grief that she was digesting. Her beloved sister, mother, best friend - Tata - died at almost 100 a few weeks ago. She has been caring for Tata in Las Vegas for years.
I did an small intervention. "Hey Mary Mary, I was calling for corroboration that Betty is awesome." Mary Mary found her mojo with my lifeline of joy. She got a massive smile from Betty before we hung up.
Our second call was to an old glamorous friend of Betty's - Carolyn in Tulsa. She is another lovely femme in the southern school with a strength that was never successfully disguised by her humor; like Betty, she was a party girl - now retired.
Betty started having breathing trouble - anxiety and lots of it.
"Honey." I asked "Do you want to hang up?" She started breathing even faster. She grabbed the iPhone in a way that I can only describe as hungrily - like someone starving.
We spoke more words. Betty listened to fun, playful, rowdy melody of her old life.
I think.
Joy came in with more oral morphine and Betty took it. I crawled into bed beside her.
Joy said "So Betty, you have a snuggle buddy tonight." Betty really likes all the caregivers - but Joy got an open smile that took over her entire face.
I stayed until she could settle.
She spoke several times that night - the most memorable to me was when Joy the lovely hospice angel asked her "Betty, do you have any pain?" Betty is on morphine now to ease her anxiety - mostly.
Betty (of the wicked sense of humor and irony was back for a moment and) answered, "Only when Eleesa is here." She squeezed my hand.
It is not just me or us that have to let Betty go. She has to let us go - Of course. I just forgot that. It is easy to loose track of gravity in this quantum world between worlds.
Betty is trying to let go now - I think.
I saw it in the two "AWESOME" phone calls that I had planned for her.
I called my Aunt Mary - really a sister to me and to Betty. Mary Mary, as we call her for some reason known only to Betty, is usually an inspiration and rock in crisis. I have always counted on her for humor and perspective in the deepest valleys of thought.
"Hi, Betty. How are you?"
"I'm feel fine." It was more croak than voice.
"What are you doing?" Betty did not answer - which was the saddest of pauses because to break the pattern of rote intro was to admit she was beyond it - something - Beyone what ? trappings of civil discourse? structures of dailiness?
She was just husbanding her energy now - I think.
"Oh, Betty." Mary Mary was only human today. She had lost much of her superpower on her own massive grief that she was digesting. Her beloved sister, mother, best friend - Tata - died at almost 100 a few weeks ago. She has been caring for Tata in Las Vegas for years.
I did an small intervention. "Hey Mary Mary, I was calling for corroboration that Betty is awesome." Mary Mary found her mojo with my lifeline of joy. She got a massive smile from Betty before we hung up.
Our second call was to an old glamorous friend of Betty's - Carolyn in Tulsa. She is another lovely femme in the southern school with a strength that was never successfully disguised by her humor; like Betty, she was a party girl - now retired.
Betty started having breathing trouble - anxiety and lots of it.
"Honey." I asked "Do you want to hang up?" She started breathing even faster. She grabbed the iPhone in a way that I can only describe as hungrily - like someone starving.
We spoke more words. Betty listened to fun, playful, rowdy melody of her old life.
I think.
Joy came in with more oral morphine and Betty took it. I crawled into bed beside her.
Joy said "So Betty, you have a snuggle buddy tonight." Betty really likes all the caregivers - but Joy got an open smile that took over her entire face.
I stayed until she could settle.
Monday, October 17, 2011
We are all just One phone call from our knees
I forgot to say what made me 'come out' with this blog now. Betty has been in hospice 8 months (and 9 roomates.)
Maurice the 6'4 (cool-drink-of-water, lanky, funny and kind) hospice nurse confirmed what I knew. "It could be days but probably weeks now. Betty is changing."
Last evening I visited her. She was so afraid. Her skin was more alabaster than usual; her eyes had deepened and hollowed, she was holding on to the railing of her bed - even after an anti-anxiety and morphine oral syringe early that morning.
She would not talk to me.
"What is it?" I could see the world had shifted on her axis.
"I feel fine" was the matra. It was not working.
She held out her arm to me to show off her bracelets in a desperate (and feeble) attempt to distract me from noticing her dismay. (You know, like when you are broken up, sucking it up and a kind word starts you choking up?)
She was trying to hold it together with pieces that did not fit and no worldly glue in the cupboard.
I crawled into bed with her; I slid between the railing and the food tray to let my body, assure her body, which I came from, without words. I started feeding her spoonfuls, (and like my mother taught me,) I started with the ice cream.
"You know you are awesome. I remember."
"You had a kick-ass life. You are smart, generous, kind, courageous and gorgeous- all true. In short - awesome"
Even from the tight angle I was hugging her from, I could see the corners of her mouth turn up. She squeezed by hand.
"And is not just me that thinks so" I pulled out my iPhone and dialed Leanne. She was an adopted daughter of my mother's choosing. A girl in the office that turned into a mentored colleague, then friend, then deeper. I dialed her in Oklahoma and put it on speakerphone.
"Hello Eleesa, How are you?" She was one of those special people that shoved real authenticity and empathy into the commonest of greetings"
Betty's mouth started to talk but no words came out. "Betty and I are just laying around, in bed, eating good food with love all around us."
"Hi, Betty - That's what I would expect from you, girl: living the good life." She really meant it- strength and joy was in her voice. She is a connector a living matrix or maybe a circus safety net - but it is of love. I did not see it until I was well into 5 years of caring for my mother.
"I need corroboration to the fact that Betty is AWESOME" I was able to say this with no catch in my voice. I connected with Leanne over the digital connection - the waves and particles were strengthening me now.
"Well, that's an easy one - she IS AWESOME - her whole life was awesome - all her husbands agreed, she was beautiful and awesome"
My mothers mouth was in full smile. She relaxed. She squeezed my hand.
We hung up and I did he same thing with my younger brother Ted. He answered and Betty was smiling before he ever to the word awesome.
After we hung up, Leanne sent photos and a video. We watched the the video of a sunset on a lake in Oklahoma from our San Francisco hospice bed - there was the sound of wind on the video.
" Listen, honey, it is the sound of the Oklahoma wind during the sunset and she said the first full sentence of the night.
" I miss that"
She fell deeply asleep
Maurice the 6'4 (cool-drink-of-water, lanky, funny and kind) hospice nurse confirmed what I knew. "It could be days but probably weeks now. Betty is changing."
Last evening I visited her. She was so afraid. Her skin was more alabaster than usual; her eyes had deepened and hollowed, she was holding on to the railing of her bed - even after an anti-anxiety and morphine oral syringe early that morning.
She would not talk to me.
"What is it?" I could see the world had shifted on her axis.
"I feel fine" was the matra. It was not working.
She held out her arm to me to show off her bracelets in a desperate (and feeble) attempt to distract me from noticing her dismay. (You know, like when you are broken up, sucking it up and a kind word starts you choking up?)
She was trying to hold it together with pieces that did not fit and no worldly glue in the cupboard.
I crawled into bed with her; I slid between the railing and the food tray to let my body, assure her body, which I came from, without words. I started feeding her spoonfuls, (and like my mother taught me,) I started with the ice cream.
"You know you are awesome. I remember."
"You had a kick-ass life. You are smart, generous, kind, courageous and gorgeous- all true. In short - awesome"
Even from the tight angle I was hugging her from, I could see the corners of her mouth turn up. She squeezed by hand.
"And is not just me that thinks so" I pulled out my iPhone and dialed Leanne. She was an adopted daughter of my mother's choosing. A girl in the office that turned into a mentored colleague, then friend, then deeper. I dialed her in Oklahoma and put it on speakerphone.
"Hello Eleesa, How are you?" She was one of those special people that shoved real authenticity and empathy into the commonest of greetings"
Betty's mouth started to talk but no words came out. "Betty and I are just laying around, in bed, eating good food with love all around us."
"Hi, Betty - That's what I would expect from you, girl: living the good life." She really meant it- strength and joy was in her voice. She is a connector a living matrix or maybe a circus safety net - but it is of love. I did not see it until I was well into 5 years of caring for my mother.
"I need corroboration to the fact that Betty is AWESOME" I was able to say this with no catch in my voice. I connected with Leanne over the digital connection - the waves and particles were strengthening me now.
"Well, that's an easy one - she IS AWESOME - her whole life was awesome - all her husbands agreed, she was beautiful and awesome"
My mothers mouth was in full smile. She relaxed. She squeezed my hand.
We hung up and I did he same thing with my younger brother Ted. He answered and Betty was smiling before he ever to the word awesome.
After we hung up, Leanne sent photos and a video. We watched the the video of a sunset on a lake in Oklahoma from our San Francisco hospice bed - there was the sound of wind on the video.
" Listen, honey, it is the sound of the Oklahoma wind during the sunset and she said the first full sentence of the night.
" I miss that"
She fell deeply asleep
The Petals are falling.
"I think we should go back home" was my mother's response.
"You mean to Oklahoma?"
"Yes." And then she was gone again. This was last week. I could see her changing. I could see the fear creeping into her - from the mitochondria ... out.
I have decided to write her story - or our story of the last 11 years. The working title is called Girl Quantum. I am not sure I am that or she is but we are time-traveling - we are both wave and particle - at the same time.
It can get confusing if you are only a physical being - happy in the furry, warm mammalian world of Newton and WYSIWYG.
I am no longer of that world only. I have been chasing Betty for years now - since she fell ill of a broken heart (or CHF) after my brother, her first born died in May 2001. You see he failed to sprout wings - he had a parachute but he always wanted wings.
She did not cry that I saw. She just gathered ER doctors to her like flies to rotting meat. She would recover and test out some new paramedics and their rides. It was my initiation to time traveling - trying like a good daughter to fix her house of cards.
You see I am in Earth girl. I like to control things - or did. Now I chase particles - or was that a wave. You can never be sure even when you have it in your hands.
I am coming out with this blog to my friends and family. I want you all to time travel with me; I want you all to see this journey because we are connected and this is all the practice we get for death and for living life.
"You mean to Oklahoma?"
"Yes." And then she was gone again. This was last week. I could see her changing. I could see the fear creeping into her - from the mitochondria ... out.
I have decided to write her story - or our story of the last 11 years. The working title is called Girl Quantum. I am not sure I am that or she is but we are time-traveling - we are both wave and particle - at the same time.
It can get confusing if you are only a physical being - happy in the furry, warm mammalian world of Newton and WYSIWYG.
I am no longer of that world only. I have been chasing Betty for years now - since she fell ill of a broken heart (or CHF) after my brother, her first born died in May 2001. You see he failed to sprout wings - he had a parachute but he always wanted wings.
She did not cry that I saw. She just gathered ER doctors to her like flies to rotting meat. She would recover and test out some new paramedics and their rides. It was my initiation to time traveling - trying like a good daughter to fix her house of cards.
You see I am in Earth girl. I like to control things - or did. Now I chase particles - or was that a wave. You can never be sure even when you have it in your hands.
I am coming out with this blog to my friends and family. I want you all to time travel with me; I want you all to see this journey because we are connected and this is all the practice we get for death and for living life.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
The beginning of the end...hospice
We had such a lovely visit yesterday - just being. We watched "the Ghost Whisperer" and muted the commercials. During which, I told her how much I (and the whole array of framed pictures) loved her. I read her a few favorite Hafiz poems.
It is all I know to do.
It has been 10 years of caring for my mother in various capacities. She has been what I say - time traveling - while I stay "here" in time-space. She has no memory of the last decade. That is nature of (her) dementia.
Elizabeth Sr is in hospice now. But she has been there 4 months and is on her 4th roommate; it is a wonderful place with angel-like caretakers all around. I used to volunteer at Coming Home Hospice so I know a few people but they would be this kind even if I was a total stranger.
It is lightening to see my mother get such care.
She is responding to that love too. Volunteer choirs sing to her, they feed her well. Other volunteers read her poetry. She has her own TV that she can watch even when she is not watching.
There is a chaplain too that reminds her of her living son Ted too. This is also the nature of her dementia, she transposes the people she misses to the living beings in front of her - caring for her.
Pretty smart way to live...
Lessons everywhere - "Everyone is God Talking. Let's be polite and listen to Him." - Hafiz translated by Ladinsky.
It is all I know to do.
It has been 10 years of caring for my mother in various capacities. She has been what I say - time traveling - while I stay "here" in time-space. She has no memory of the last decade. That is nature of (her) dementia.
Elizabeth Sr is in hospice now. But she has been there 4 months and is on her 4th roommate; it is a wonderful place with angel-like caretakers all around. I used to volunteer at Coming Home Hospice so I know a few people but they would be this kind even if I was a total stranger.
It is lightening to see my mother get such care.
She is responding to that love too. Volunteer choirs sing to her, they feed her well. Other volunteers read her poetry. She has her own TV that she can watch even when she is not watching.
There is a chaplain too that reminds her of her living son Ted too. This is also the nature of her dementia, she transposes the people she misses to the living beings in front of her - caring for her.
Pretty smart way to live...
Lessons everywhere - "Everyone is God Talking. Let's be polite and listen to Him." - Hafiz translated by Ladinsky.
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