THIS TOO WILL PASS

Standing in the lobby of the Bellhaven Center for Rehabilitation, the people arrived one by one via ambulance. Young men and women guide the pallets into the building through the sliding entrance door and their charges all look confused as they view their home for the first time. The vast ceiling with the columns that reach high, the lighting and wallpaper, all greet you with a grandness found in a French palace or gambling casino.

Soon it was mom’s turn to arrive and we immediately jumped up to follow as she was led to her new home. My sister, Henry and I follow, we marvel at the wallpaper, the molding, the floors, all done by a person with a sense of aesthetics, creating a somewhat elegant environment for people who are checking out of life, Bellhaven being their last stop.

No matter how beautiful the place may be, no matter how kind and understanding the professional staff, they cannot replace the independence and freedom of movement we all have at one time. Instead we find the chains of old age, the rules of infirmity restricting and punishing because of living so long.

Mom is told that her move is to rehabilitation, but she knows as well as we do, this is it, this is final there is no more. Her life will now be one of someone who intrudes into her personal business, her hygiene, her whole being. She will lie in a bed for most of her days, and will sleep most of what is left of her life, her body no longer able to withstand the rigors of even simple life.

I will go, I will visit often and reassure her though she is not home, but is not forgotten. I won’t speak for my siblings: they will make their own plans and own goodbyes. The life that gave me life will have me there hopefully when it ends, I owe her that for so many reasons.