In All That Jazz, Director Bob Fosse features a comedian who's rift is the 7 Stages of Grief.
Anger, denial, bargaining, depression and loneliness, Mom and Dad are still some ways from acceptance; they're grieving their youth and their life.
I chatted with Mom this afternoon; she was agitated and quick to tears. She wants to move home, wherever that is. And "what about my taxes?"; she has so many worries. I heard them all, "I've got stuff in Treelakes! I've got to get back to sell the cottage! I miss my friends!" They're not harmonizing with their new lifestyle, living with my sister's family. It was a little unsettling when she mentioned 3 different times, "I have guns!". She was slow to pick up on the analogy that assisted living in Palo Alto might be like Treelakes, inside 4 walls with lots of new friends. "I won't go!"
"All I do is walk, about a mile, twice a day!" That's good, let's extend that to 3 times a day. She did say that coming off her high dosage prednisone was a challenge to her mental health.
I told her that since she's been a great wit for so many years that I was going to argue back with her and dispute some of the "I can handle my medicines and my life" claims. "Who ratted us out? Was it Cynthia? Who said we can't take care of ourselves?" How 'bout I tell you who's not on that list, it'll be shorter. Uncle Art, Aunt Pat, Cynthia and Paul, they all called to alert us to your declining situation in Florida.
I remembered Dad last summer, when he saw me arguing with Mom, he advised, "let it pass, it'll pass". Then Mom hung up on me.
Anger, denial, bargaining, depression and loneliness, Mom and Dad are still some ways from acceptance; they're grieving their youth and their life.
I chatted with Mom this afternoon; she was agitated and quick to tears. She wants to move home, wherever that is. And "what about my taxes?"; she has so many worries. I heard them all, "I've got stuff in Treelakes! I've got to get back to sell the cottage! I miss my friends!" They're not harmonizing with their new lifestyle, living with my sister's family. It was a little unsettling when she mentioned 3 different times, "I have guns!". She was slow to pick up on the analogy that assisted living in Palo Alto might be like Treelakes, inside 4 walls with lots of new friends. "I won't go!"
"All I do is walk, about a mile, twice a day!" That's good, let's extend that to 3 times a day. She did say that coming off her high dosage prednisone was a challenge to her mental health.
I told her that since she's been a great wit for so many years that I was going to argue back with her and dispute some of the "I can handle my medicines and my life" claims. "Who ratted us out? Was it Cynthia? Who said we can't take care of ourselves?" How 'bout I tell you who's not on that list, it'll be shorter. Uncle Art, Aunt Pat, Cynthia and Paul, they all called to alert us to your declining situation in Florida.
I remembered Dad last summer, when he saw me arguing with Mom, he advised, "let it pass, it'll pass". Then Mom hung up on me.
I'm not sure if she hung up or the phone battery died... Don't take it personally!