Moving Mom Déjà vu 

Fourteen years ago Mom moved from the home she lived in for 50 years to a condo in a 55+ apartment house. She adjusted well. Her friends and activities were within an easy driving distance, and my sister and I felt comfortable with her in a secure environment.

Two years ago Mom reluctantly gave up her car. She found individuals to drive her to activities; some friends volunteered to transport her, and other people she paid. We installed Uber on her phone, but her first attempt proved a failure when the Uber car never appeared. She has been unwilling to use the app ever since.

Mom turned 99 on January 2, 2024. Her mind remains amazingly clear. Physically she has become frail and grudgingly uses a cane. The stress of scheduling drivers, her lack of flexibility, and the increased amount of time at home alone were taking a toll. She finally admitted it might be time to move again, this time to an assisted living facility.

My sister and I jumped at her admission. We wanted her to relocate near one of us, but Mom wouldn’t agree. She wanted to stay close to her friends and activities. We realized it was wrong to force her to leave her life. 

After visiting several places, Mom settled on a place. Then the work began for me, my hub, my sister, and Mom. There were endless forms to fill out and information to retrieve from long-forgotten documents, such as verification that Dad had been a veteran. Numerous and often exasperating phone calls, decluttering, cleaning out, cleaning up, packing, unpacking, meetings, four-hour drives each way from our homes to Long Island – the project was endless, exhausting, and time-consuming.

What to take and what to leave behind became a tough task for Mom. Closets and bookcases were jam-packed with boxes of papers, photos, books, games, clothes, and a few surprise pieces, many decades old. We organized three piles: give away, throw away, move to her new apartment. Some items my sister and I took home.

We signed papers to put the condo on the market. Phone calls were made to internet, phone, and other service providers. Mom is a member of a group of archaic folks who still use a  landline, as well as a cell phone. Only the cell went along to the new place. Hub was assigned the challenging job of making calls, engaging clueless customer service reps when a real person eventually responded, and finalizing moving plans.

A moving company transported Mom’s stuff four miles to her new home. The job became a nightmare. Coordination between the apartment Super, the property management company, and the assisted living facility proved chaotic and frustrating. Mom received emails from the management company but could not open the attached documents. The apartment recently hired a new Super, and this was his first moving project.

Mom has settled into her new home. The rest of us recuperate from the travel and physical and mental effort of moving Mom.