The Good, the Sad, and the Mixed Bag

When I heard 2020 called “a dumpster fire of a year,” I laughed at this funny description of oh-so-apt disbelief and despair. Yet … thanks to heroic efforts of many people, so many of us remain healthy enough to accept new challenges and celebrate lives of our loved ones. Maybe some garbage in our lives needs to burn to give clearer focus to higher priorities. That will require further reflection now and later in every heart. Right now I want to reflect on the good, the sad, and the mixed bag of yesterday’s high priority, my mother’s 100^th birthday.

Since COVID confinement began in March, three family birthdays were celebrated without fanfare, but Mom’s 100^th would not be one of them. Although our family members have our differences, we agree that the matriarch of our family is an extraordinary woman, uniquely worthy of honor on the occasion of this milestone. How to honor her within pandemic restrictions was the question. Her nursing home provided one answer, and technology provided another.

We were glad that the home began allowing in-person outdoor visits in time for Mom’s birthday. Only fifteen masked minutes, only one or two visitors, and six supervised feet apart. An aide wheeled her out to the gazebo, and we got to shout through double-layered cotton masks and over roaring nearby lawn mowers. The good—seeing her in person, receiving the twinkle of her blue eyes and her air-blown kisses as the aide whisked her away. The sad—no hugging, not hearing each other well enough to have an intimate conversation. The mixed bag—having visual proof of her signature elegance but preferring audio proof of her alert, strong, interesting mind. My mother has always had a regal bearing, carefully coiffed hair, beautifully polished fingernails, stylish clothing, and ever-present earrings. I can see and hear, unfortunately not simultaneously, that despite four months of isolation, she has chosen to thrive. After yesterday’s visual visit, today I find myself longing for a phone conversation with my mother.

Thanks to the organizational genius of my sister, we sent Mom flowers, brought her gifts, ordered a cake, and alerted about forty of Mom’s friends about her approaching 100^th and what contact methods the nursing home allowed. The good—the organizational genius of my sister, flowers, gifts, cake. The sad—not enjoying the bouquet’s beauty with her, not oohing and aahing over her gifts and cards, not sitting around together with cream-cheese frosting mustaches. Also sad for me, and I imagine for my sisters as well, was not being able to help Mom position, rearrange, trim back, and keep the bouquet watered. We didn’t get to reach for a scissors to help Mom’s weak fingers open her gifts and then discard wrapping paper and ribbons. We couldn’t arrange her birthday cards just-so or clean up the cake detritus. Maybe it sounds odd, but we always took pleasure in helping Mom nest. Now an aide helps her. And if Mom had to open gifts alone, and did not have anyone to smile at when she saw what the present was, oh boy, I feel  super-sad. The mixed bag—doing the best we could under the circumstances. See above photo. The nursing home helped tremendously. The staff sang Happy Birthday to her inside. We sang Happy Birthday to her outside. Everybody clapped.

Technological togetherness happened yesterday due to the tech-savvy of my brother and Mom’s grandchildren. When I figure out how to share this in my blog, I will do so.