Mom celebrated her 100th birthday the first weekend of the New Year. Born January 2, 1925, she experienced the Depression, a world war, peace at home, and political turmoil twice; during the 1960s and 70s, and the ongoing saga of the latest decade. Her life embraced a happy only-child upbringing, college during the war years followed by life as a wife, mother, and matriarch. She returned to school, experienced a long career as a librarian, then relished a meaningful retirement as a volunteer and avid traveler.
Her birthday bash was held in a senior facility.
If asked today about her tomorrows, Mom would slowly shake her head and sigh.
Her tomorrows are her past.
The photographer barks “Say cheese!” and captures Mom surrounded by family. Grandchildren and great-grands flew in from Vermont, Florida, and Nevada. Nearby family drove to the event.
Mom lived in her apartment until March of 2024. She gave up her car a year earlier and traveled to activities via Uber or a private driver. But her driver was not always available, and a couple of times Uber failed to arrive or came late. The inability to go and come at will she found frustrating. Mom admitted to being lonely, isolated in her apartment. Relying on others for transportation kept her on edge. Friends passed on or were confined at home or in homes, too ill or disabled to travel.
It was time for a change.
Fiercely independent, Mom managed her own life until recently. After visiting facilities on Long Island, where she resided, and in New Jersey and Harrisburg, where her daughters lived, she decided – against the pleading of family – to remain on the Island so she could continue to participate in her favorite activities: bridge, book club, Temple volunteer, Alzheimer’s support group facilitator, meeting friends for breakfast or lunch. I believe all her friends are younger, several by two decades.
We put her apartment up for sale, decluttered the place, gave much away, and moved furniture and miscellaneous stuff, accumulated over a lifetime, into her new pad, a one-bedroom corner unit with large windows that sunlit her bedroom and main living area.
Mom found the new place clean, the staff usually helpful, and loved being served three meals a day, but declared her unhappiness, and was bored. There were not enough goings-on to keep her engaged.
A few months passed and one day in November, outside walking, she fell.
That accident changed everything.
Her face appeared badly beaten. She broke several ribs. A blood clot affected her breathing. Her body weakened.
It was time to move Mom closer to family.
She landed in Harrisburg, PA, and stayed with my sister while waiting for space in a facility. Then she suffered a TIA. Her speech slurred, her hands trembled, and she had difficulty feeding herself. Sporadic forgetfulness became more apparent.
But Mom remained resilient. Doctors told us she would be on oxygen for the rest of her life. Four days later she breathed on her own.
Mom now resides in a skilled nursing residence. We hoped after weeks of rehab she would move into a personal care room, but that may not happen. The powers that be are not confident she can safely manage alone in an apartment with the door closed.
Surviving one day at a time, Mom is depressed and bored. There are few activities, and she finds many uninteresting. For instance arts and crafts are popular senior center offerings, but Mom was never into the creative arts – except writing.
Mom was almost her old self at her birthday bash. We held it in a room at her facility, unsure whether she would be able to travel and uncertain of the weather. We reserved a meeting space, a room decorated like a 1950s diner; there was no institutional feel. We decorated with banners and other party paraphernalia.
The family matriarch loved seeing everyone, especially the great-grands. She enjoyed the tumult, the banter, the video my sister created of her life. And the food, catered by a local Italian restaurant, was a hit.
Mom appreciated birthday cards pinned to her bulletin board and displayed along the windowsill. She enjoyed calls from friends unable to attend her party. Piled on her nightstand are gift boxes of chocolates, cookies, and pretzels. Vases of colorful flowers and balloons received in honor of the occasion brighten her room.
I don’t know if memories of her special day will linger, but at the time she treasured the experience.
Most of us will not get the opportunity to celebrate our 100th year of life. I have mixed feelings about the prospect. I want to live long, but only if mind and body cooperate. A celebration of a long life well-lived is a joy. On the other hand to watch a person fragment pains.
What happens tomorrow, well, we just have to wait and see.
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