I absolutely understand. LaToya was the floor beneath your feet and when it was gone it was hard to keep a balance. The comfort that I received from the various caregivers in my mom's life - June was great until she walked off the job after one of mom's Alzheimer induced rages, and the ones in my dad's life, and in Bob Graham's life although one was suspected of running off with the jeweled peacock from Neiman Marcus; all of these people supported me like no one in my family. I have to mention the hospice chaplain and the members of the Palliative care team from St. Joseph's. You've brought their comfort back to me. I don't have their numbers and I don't know what I'd say, but thank you.
I wonder if you spend time in Patzcuaro. Do you make art too? This is artful writing you've dispensed like wellness.
"Artful writing you've dispensed like wellness.".. Thank you! And love the reference to a missing jeweled peacock, gotta say. It sounds like you have a tremendous amount of experience with this terrain.
No, I don't spend time in Patzcuaro, but I did once visit my mother there. Such a beautiful place. And no, I'm not a painter.
Isn't interesting how people come into our lives, and change it in big and little ways! I wonder if there's a single word that describes the kind of relationship you have with LaToya -not quite friend, beyond "mom's caregiver". Beautiful, thought-provoking writing, as usual. And you have written a story that is a perfect vehicle for more of your mom's work.
I’m reminded of the people who have slipped in and out of our lives; guardian angels who appear at the ideal moment, affect us in the most profound ways, and inevitably drift away. Thank you for reminding me of those amazing souls, as I do not stop to appreciate them nearly enough.
Stunning paintings by your mother, Eliza. I particularly love the one titled A Shift In Perception.
I can see why your connection with LaToya was so significant.
A different situation, but after my single aunt had a devastating stroke in 2018, I got to know her friends, who were as dismayed as I was by her sudden loss of speech and mobility. She never recovered and I kept them updated with regular phone calls and met them when they visited her. I became really fond of some of them and after my aunt died in 2020, found myself missing them.
Those paintings are such a crucial contrast to the sad story of decline— your mother in all her earlier vibrancy.
I know what you mean about the intimacy created with caregivers. It’s a cliche to say they are family members, and not quite accurate maybe, but there’s an undeniable intensity to those relationships. A sense of being in something dramatic and traumatic together— a witnessing, I guess. Thanks for prompting me to think about this more carefully.
Thanks, Victoria. I feel the same way about them, that they help fill out her life and person.. better than photos; she’s speaking for herself here. A bit, anyway.
Beautiful tribute to her and your mother. And your mother's paintings from Patzcuaro, a magical place, were lovely to view here, too.
Thank you, Joy
I absolutely understand. LaToya was the floor beneath your feet and when it was gone it was hard to keep a balance. The comfort that I received from the various caregivers in my mom's life - June was great until she walked off the job after one of mom's Alzheimer induced rages, and the ones in my dad's life, and in Bob Graham's life although one was suspected of running off with the jeweled peacock from Neiman Marcus; all of these people supported me like no one in my family. I have to mention the hospice chaplain and the members of the Palliative care team from St. Joseph's. You've brought their comfort back to me. I don't have their numbers and I don't know what I'd say, but thank you.
I wonder if you spend time in Patzcuaro. Do you make art too? This is artful writing you've dispensed like wellness.
"Artful writing you've dispensed like wellness.".. Thank you! And love the reference to a missing jeweled peacock, gotta say. It sounds like you have a tremendous amount of experience with this terrain.
No, I don't spend time in Patzcuaro, but I did once visit my mother there. Such a beautiful place. And no, I'm not a painter.
Thanks for your generous note.
Isn't interesting how people come into our lives, and change it in big and little ways! I wonder if there's a single word that describes the kind of relationship you have with LaToya -not quite friend, beyond "mom's caregiver". Beautiful, thought-provoking writing, as usual. And you have written a story that is a perfect vehicle for more of your mom's work.
Thanks for this, Amy. I enjoyed placing those paintings with this story. It was so very satisfying.
I’m reminded of the people who have slipped in and out of our lives; guardian angels who appear at the ideal moment, affect us in the most profound ways, and inevitably drift away. Thank you for reminding me of those amazing souls, as I do not stop to appreciate them nearly enough.
Guardian angels, yes. But also there’s a give and take, a kindness we can share amongst all of us. Thank you, Brian
Stunning paintings by your mother, Eliza. I particularly love the one titled A Shift In Perception.
I can see why your connection with LaToya was so significant.
A different situation, but after my single aunt had a devastating stroke in 2018, I got to know her friends, who were as dismayed as I was by her sudden loss of speech and mobility. She never recovered and I kept them updated with regular phone calls and met them when they visited her. I became really fond of some of them and after my aunt died in 2020, found myself missing them.
Thank you, Wendy. These are intense episodes that are so all-consuming and people are the life rafts.
Those paintings are such a crucial contrast to the sad story of decline— your mother in all her earlier vibrancy.
I know what you mean about the intimacy created with caregivers. It’s a cliche to say they are family members, and not quite accurate maybe, but there’s an undeniable intensity to those relationships. A sense of being in something dramatic and traumatic together— a witnessing, I guess. Thanks for prompting me to think about this more carefully.
Thanks, Victoria. I feel the same way about them, that they help fill out her life and person.. better than photos; she’s speaking for herself here. A bit, anyway.