Mom: “So, do you plan to live here for the rest of your life?”A sweet conversation from March 1, 2018, one year ago today.
Me: “Yes. We like it here.”
Mom: “Good! Can I live with you?”
Me: “Of course!”
Mom: “Good! I was worried about where I would live. Anmoore West Virginia is gone now.”
Momma still searches for home. Day and night. When she isn’t sleeping, eating, or contentedly coloring, she is anxiously folding and packing her belongings in her purse, wrapping treasured photos in her blankets, looking out of her bedroom window – searching and very ready for her mom and dad to finally come here in their car and take her home. Home, in her mind, is somewhere in West Virginia where she was born and raised, and where the only memories Alzheimer’s has left behind still reside.
Momma is under home hospice care now.
There. I’ve said it. Hospice.
As hard as the reality of the need for hospice care is to fathom, I’m so very grateful for the extra measure of help the truly amazing CNAs and nurses are giving me in this home stretch of Momma’s search for home.
I’m not sure when she will go home. They say six months or less. I don’t think so. I don’t know when, but I do know it won’t be Arthur Peet coming to get her in the family car. And I know “home” won’t be Anmoore, West Virginia. Or Bridgeport or Clarksburg, either.
Momma’s trip home will begin with her heavenly Father coming to call for her. Her search will be over as she finds herself finally home in heaven with her Savior.
This post was brought to you courtesy of Five Minute Friday (hosted by Kate Motaung) and the word “search.” Writers set a timer for five minutes, free write on the word prompt and publish it on our blog so the whole world (well, our little corner, anyway) can read it! Learn more about the writing challenge at Five Minute Friday.