mother-in-law
When you have a family member in a nursing home, and you visit them often, the other residents of the nursing home soon become…almost like your family members too. You get to a place where you know their names, their personalities, and their funny little quirks. Of course, I’m not going to tell their names, even though I know them, but there are the two old ladies that didn’t know each other until they went to the nursing home and became roommates. Now everyone calls them the twins, because they are inseparable. They may not know where they are going, but they will be going there together…and together, they wander the hallways, always smiling and totally happy.
There is the little old lady who is often the first one to tell you hello when you walk in the door, and she doesn’t mind giving medical advice if you have a cough or some other simple ailment, because “she raised 7 children, so she knows what to do for a cough” and for just about any other ailment. She isn’t pushy though, she just wants to be helpful. There is the little old lady that walks down the halls and out of the blue, she just starts dancing a jig, and can even click her heals. While her mind doesn’t work as good as her body, she is perfectly happy and content in her surroundings. Of course, every nursing home has the sad ones and the grouchy ones, but many of them are happy and cheerful, and they always put a smile on my face.
The one that really surprised me the most though, was my mother-in-law’s roommate. She is a happy little lady and quite talkative when you get to know her. She will tell you that she was “born in Oklahoma 94 years ago, and that is the place where the tornadoes are…you know”. It wasn’t the things she said or the way she acted that surprised me, but rather…the way she looked. I mean, who would have guessed in a million years that my 
mother-in-law would end up sharing a room in a nursing home with a woman who looks so much like her mother-in-law. Yes, grandma was 10 years older than mom’s roommate, and Grandma never made it to 94, but I can easily imagine that she might have look just like her if Grandma had made it to 94. It makes me feel kind of good about mom’s roommate, because when she talks to her, it seems like she knows her, and maybe she thinks she is her mother-in-law. The other day she told her, “I was wondering if you were coming in.” It was just like something she might have said to her mother-in-law…like she thought her roommate was her mother-in-law, and it wouldn’t surprise me at all if she did.
Can a house feel lonely? Well, maybe not the house itself exactly, but it really can take on that feel after the loss of a loved one, and the moving of the other to a nursing home. We have been preparing my in-laws’ house for the sale to my nephew, JD, and the more things that get removed from the house; the more lonely it feels there. When I think back to all the wonderful times we have had in the 24 years that my in-laws lived there, it feels like the house took on their personalities to a large degree. That is the way it goes, when you own a home. You pour your own style into it, and it becomes almost an extension of you.
All the good times and the sad times that went on during the years they lived in the house, keep coming to the top of my memory files. I remember the sadness we felt when Marlyce passed away, and the excitement as each new baby came into the family. Gone are the times when the kids would come by before a dance or to trick or treat on Halloween. Gone is the noise that was always in the house…the television that was 
always on and turned up loud so my father-in-law could hear it, the laughter and chatter from all the visitors they always seemed to have, and even the rumbling of the oxygen concentrator that was a mainstay in the home for many years. Gone are the birthday parties, holidays, and family get togethers. All are gone from the home now, and it is quiet…too quiet really. That is an amazing thought, since they lived on one of the busiest streets in Casper.
It’s funny, how much my mother-in-law hated the noise of the street, and yet loved the flurry of activity that always accompanied that traffic noise. Everyone stopped what they were doing when an emergency vehicle went by, and grumbled at the loud motorcycles and vehicles when they roared by. Toward the end of their time there, it was all that traffic that gave them something to look at and wonder about. Their chairs were set up so they could look out the big front window and see the hubbub of activity going on, because whether they ever admitted it or not, they liked all of it…except maybe the noise in the summer when the doors and windows were open.
I’m glad my nephew is going to buy the home, so it stays in the family, and I’m glad for the home that it will once again have someone living in it…someone who will remember the 
good times that we all had there for so many years. Oh I know that JD will change the house, add things, and make it his own…that is inevitable, but to us and him, it will simply always be remembered as his grandma and grandpa’s house…at least somewhere in his memory files…and that makes it all feel better somehow. A house needs to be lived in. That is its whole purpose for existence, and when it isn’t lived in, it is simply a house…so lonely.
My father-in-law passed away on May 5, 2013, but my mother-in-law is doing ok. Alzheimer’s Disease has removed all memory of his passing. I know that many people look at Alzheimer’s Disease as being a cruel thief. I can agree with the thief part, in that it has taken her memory of recent events away, but cruel…maybe not. Her mind simply creates its own reality. In her mind he is not gone. He is at work or visiting the neighbors or out in the garage. Death means nothing to her. It has been the same with her parents, who have been gone for 28 and 23 years now.
I have long known that she lived in a world of make believe, but that fact never hit home as much as it did tonight, when Bob and I were out visiting her at the nursing home. She often speaks of those who are closest to her, and sometimes she speaks about you…to you, saying things like, “Caryn is going to be cooking dinner for everyone” when she is talking to me, or “Bobby is on his way to Grandma’s for the summer, to help with the cows” when she is talking to Bob. Corrie and Amy, work at the nursing home…at least in her mind, and my father-in-law is over by the telephone, so he will answer it when it rings. These were just a few of the recent things she has talked about, and things we are getting used to hearing.
Tonight…well, tonight was different. We were talking with my mother-in-law, and the conversation was following the normal lines…or at least, it was until it wasn’t. Suddenly she said, “Hun, can you help me get this afghan over to the sewing machine so I can finish it up.” She was talking to Bob, but to her, he was my father-in-law. At first we thought it was just a slip of the tongue, but then it happened again. She said, “Walt, you need to move that other sewing machine to the table.” We didn’t know exactly how to react. It was not the first time she had mentioned him, but it was the first time she spoke to him when it was actually one of the guys in the family. She thinks nothing of talking to him, but we know that he is gone, and the pain of that parting is still very fresh in our hearts 
and minds. We can’t be upset with her for what she says, because in her mind, it is reality, but to us it is make believe. Like it or not, we have to play along, because to do anything different is to make her relive his death over and over again.
I’m sure we haven’t heard the last of my father-in-law visiting my mother-in-law. Her mind will bring it up again, and it’s likely that her sons or grandsons will have to play the part again at some point. They will do it, as often as needed, because it is for her. They can do nothing else. They will play the part…so that she can keep her illusion that the love of her life is never far away.
In the early years of being a grandpa, my father-in-law had just girls…three in a row to be exact. That didn’t bother him one bit. They were grandpa’s girls, and he thought that was just fine. He loves kids, and as I have seen in letters he wrote to my mother-in-law, before their marriage, he had a special place in his heart for those little girls. His future sister-in-law, Margee had been just a little over 5 months old, when he and my mother-in-law were married, and he thought Margee was just the sweetest thing. His thoughts on baby girls didn’t change much over the years.
The girls felt the same way about their grandpa as he felt about them. They just thought he was the greatest thing going too. He loved to get down on the floor and play with them, and even if they were having one of their drama filled moments, he just didn’t seem to mind…he just redirected the play, so the drama would end, and the fun would begin. It was always fun to watch him with the girls, because he just loved being a grandpa, and it showed. In fact, he had always loved kids, so maybe that’s where Bob got his way with the little ones…softies, both of them.
I sometimes wondered where my father-in-law got his patience with the girls when they were fighting or crying…usually in the form of screaming, both. He didn’t lose his patience, like I felt like doing, but rather just separated the two fighters, and hugged them when they had their little boo boos. The screaming and crying practically drove me up a wall. If they were in that kind of a mood, I was very happy to let them go visit their grandparents, so grandpa could settle them down some.
As the years went by, my father-in-law would get one more granddaughter, and three grandsons. While he was wonderful with all of them, and it was obvious that he was simply partial to babies and kids in general, I will always remember those early years fondly. Thoughts of him happily surrounded by his girls playing and laughing put a smile on my face. The girls were so blessed to have him for their grandpa, and I hope they know that. Not every child gets to live near their grandparents, and the fact that they did is very special. While my father-in-law is gone now, I’ll always see him surrounded by his loving family, and I’ll always hold a special memory in my memory files for him and Grandpa’s Girls.
While going through my father-in-law’s belongings, since his passing earlier this month, we have come across so many interesting things…things we knew nothing of, but should not have been surprised about. One of the things we found that was particularly exciting to me, was a box of old letters written back and forth between my in-laws, during the last months before their marriage. Old letters give their reader such insight into the true person the writer was. At that time, my she was living in Colestrip, Montana, and he was working in Rosebud, Montana. Being in love and so far apart is never an easy thing, but they made due, knowing that soon they would be together for the rest of their lives.
While the letters always contained the usual “I miss you very much” parts, there was something else in one letter from my father-in-law that I thought was so sweet. In the letter he asked how his “girls” were doing. I looked up at the date on the letter, because he said “girls” and not girl. It was written on February 28, 1949…my mother-in-law’s birthday, and a little over 3 months prior to their marriage on June 6, 1949. So, what “girls” was he talking about? In the next sentences I found my answer. He clarified, when he wrote 
the name of that sweet little girl…Margaret. The little girl he loved so much and found to be so sweet, was my mother-in-law’s baby sister, who has long since been given the nickname, Margee. He went on to say, “I think she is the sweetest thing. I would like to have one just like her.” That comment brought tears to my eyes. It was just such a sweet thing to say, and it came straight from his heart.
I have always found my father-in-law to be a very good judge of character, and in my opinion, he hit that one spot on. Margee has always been a sweet person, who is willing to help in whatever way she can, and when she retired, and we were at a place in my mother-in-law, her sister’s care, where she could no longer be left alone, Margee stepped up and sat with her whenever we needed to take my father-in-law to the doctor or hospital. That, in my opinion, proved just exactly what he had seen in her when she was just a little baby, and though I have always loved her, it so completely reinforced my feelings for Margee, that it…well, lets just say it will be impossible to ever repay Margee for all she did for us. When we needed her most, and she proved over and over what a “sweet” person she is.
Dad saw something is his sister-in-law to be that would always make her dear to him. He had 
known her for all of her life and she had been his sister-in-law since she was just a little over 4 months old, so really, she was as much his little sister, as his sister-in-law, and she had never known a time when he was not in her life, so I guess he was more like a brother than a brother-in-law too. He got to see over and over what a sweet little sister she would go on to become. The few little lines he wrote in the middle of the letter, were not what the whole letter was about, but they leaped off the page as I read them…because I knew the rest of the story. I knew how that “sweet little girl” turned out, and how he had called it exactly right. She certainly was and is a very sweet girl.
For the past seven and a half years, my life has been largely defined by a series of responsibilities known as caregiving. For anyone who has ever been a caregiver, even for a short time, it is easy to understand what that entails, and what it means in the lives of those involved. Caregiving is not a job that usually becomes less demanding as time goes by, although that is not an impossibility. While caregiving is not an easy job, I can tell you from my personal experience that it is a very rewarding job. It is one that places you in a battle for life…or at least a battle to prolong life. While it is rarely a battle you can win in the end, you do win in that those final years are made more comfortable for the patient, and filled with the knowledge that you love that person so much that you are willing to make this sacrifice for them.
Now, after the passing of my dad, the recovery of my mom, the necessity of placing my mother-in-law in a nursing home, because Alzheimer’s Disease no longer allows her to stay at home, and the passing of my father-in-law, I find myself no longer in the position of being a full time caregiver. Yes, I still have minimal responsibilities with my mom and mother-in-law, like doctors appointments and visits with them, which are very important to their emotional well being, but the main responsibilities belong to others or are no longer necessary. So, I find myself wondering what do I do now that I am not a caregiver? What is life supposed to be like now? This has been who I was for so long. It was even all I talked about sometimes, as many of my family members can attest to.
A part of me is still very tired. At times during the day, I feel like I could sleep for a month, and yet, I have trouble getting to sleep at night. A part of me is ready to get back out on the trails…walking and breathing in the fresh air, and yet a part of me feels like I just want to sit and do nothing. Maybe it’s an emptiness because of no longer being needed as much as before. It seems like concentrating is very difficult…unless it’s about why we lost the battle for life, or what we might have done differently.
I know that I will get used to having more time again. And as with my dad’s passing, I will come to know that you don’t get over it…you just get on with it. I will get used to not being a caregiver, but I know too, that I will never be the same person I was before. I can’t be. I have seen too much…learned too much…felt too much…know too much, to ever be the same person I was before. I have experienced the adrenalin rush needed to hold myself together during life threatening illnesses reaching emergency levels, and making the decisions necessary to treat loved ones who can’t speak for themselves. I have held their very lives in my hands, and been responsible for trying to bring them back. And, I have lost that battle…twice. I will recover from caregiving and I will get on with it, but I will never be the same. I don’t think it is a bad thing, and I would not change any of it, except the loss of my dads, but while I would do it all again, I know that I have been forever changed by this experience.
To be given a mom who is wonderful and sweet is a great blessing indeed, but to be blessed with two of them is twice as nice. Of course, I don’t have two moms exactly, but I have a mom and mother-in-law, and both of them are wonderful and very sweet. They are different in their ways, and really always have been, they are nevertheless the same in many ways. My mom always lived in town, my mother-in-law was a country girl most of her life, and each one probably wouldn’t have changed that for anything. I suppose that the way you are raised has a lot to do with it, since each of them continued to live the same way they were raised for at least most of their lives.
In many ways, their two very different lifestyles have enriched my life twice as much. I had canned vegetables or made jelly, but never had any real part in growing the vegetables or fruits. My mother-in-law really knew no other way. While growing a garden and canning are not things a still do in today’s busy lifestyle, it is nevertheless something I could do if I needed to. And while my mom didn’t grow vegetables, she had and still has some of the most beautiful flower gardens around.
Living in the country made participation in sports more difficult, due mainly to the distances that must be traveled, when a bus could have brought the kids home without the extra 
gas needed for the trip. Living in town made it easy to participate in sports. It isn’t that sports is always important, but there are other activities that I would have missed and I know my kids would have missed.
My life is probably very little like the lives of either my mom or my mother-in-law, mostly because of the changing times we live in, but I think that the influences of these two wonderful women have made my life twice as nice, and with the passing last Sunday of my father-in-law, and my dad going on 6 years ago now, they are more precious to me than ever. Happy Mothers Day to my two moms. I hope your day is as beautiful as you are.
Bob and I went out to the nursing home to visit his mother on Saturday, and very uncharacteristic of her, since she got Alzheimer’s Disease anyway, she was very talkative. She was telling us about her day…at least as she remembered it. Her story moved from one scenario to another, making little sense, unless you knew some of the characters, and the places she was talking about. The other problem with her story was that it spanned at least 6 decades, and they were all intermingled. Probably the most disconcerting part of the story, however, was the fact that she was talking about Bob and me, almost like we weren’t there, and yet at other moments, she talked to us, knowing who we were. It was very strange to feel the need to speak of myself, as someone else, so it didn’t confuse her. It was also strange to shift gears, when she asked me what I was making everyone for the dinner she had decided I was cooking.
I’m sure a lot of people would have been a little bit freaked out by this strange visit, but with Alzheimer’s Disease, that is somewhat normal. The main reason it isn’t very normal, is that many Alzheimer’s patients, including my mother-in-law, don’t usually talk so much. It was quite an interesting conversation, really. She mentioned several family members, including Bob and me, our daughters, Corrie and Amy, and two of my grandsons, Chris and Josh. She also mentioned my brother-in-law, Ron, and my nephew, Barry as well as my sister-in-law, Jennifer. Then she mentioned the names Adolph, Brady, and Cody…names that made no sense to me, and two of which will most likely always be a mystery. Adolph and his wife Loretta, apparently were good friends of my in-laws, a long time ago.
It was very strange to know that she knew who we were, and yet also had a picture in 
her memory of what we looked like 30 years ago. The two pictures seemed like two different people in her mind, so it made perfect sense that she would be talking to us and about us at the same time. I suppose many people would find that sad, and think of Alzheimer’s disease as a horrible thief, and to a degree, they would be right, but so much of this disease…if looked at with the right mindset…can be found humorous. Yes, she makes up her stories, but they are about things in her past. Yes, she doesn’t always know us. But there is a lot to be learned there too. I never knew about their friends, Adolph and Loretta, but maybe someday she will tell me a little bit more about them…perhaps, in another story session.
Through the 38 years of my marriage to Bob, I can’t begin to count the number of knitted, crocheted, and sewn gifts our family has been blessed with. My mother-in-law had such talent and creativity. I had a heavy sweater with my favorite activity at the time, bowling on it. My kids had everything from Strawberry Shortcake to skating to unicorns on theirs. And of course, each time they outgrew one, they got a new one. Bob had one with a sports car on it. These sweaters are warm enough to be a coat. In fact, I didn’t buy a coat for any of us for years. She made afghans, dish cloths, pot holders, and so much more. We were so blessed to have all the things she made.
For many years, my sisters-in-law, Debbie and Brenda, my mother-in-law, my father-in-law, put their crafts in the multiple craft fairs around town and did quite well on sales with them. Everyone of them made things that were different from the others. And we have all benefited from all of them. It is always such a blessing when you don’t have to buy the things you need, because someone loves you enough to just give you the things you need.
My mother-in-law has been doing these things for most of her married life of 63 years, and in reality, still does them…but now it is in her memory. If you ask her what she did today, she will tell you that she made a few dish cloths. You might as well not argue with her, because in reality she did. 
She may not have used a crochet hook and yarn, but she did crochet the dish cloths. She uses the end of her shirt, and the oxygen tubing that she is holding. You might have to look closely, but if you do, you can see that she is wrapping the yarn around an imaginary hook, and she is very careful not to lose a stitch. If you ask her to do something with her hands, she really can’t, because letting go of her crocheting would result in lost stitches. The only solution is t o remove the crocheting from her hands, while reassuring her that you will make sure you don’t lose any stitches, and then she will do what you are asking…at least until her crocheting miraculously comes back into her hands again.
Bob’s great grandparents, Edgar and Nellie Knox, had 5 sons, and no daughters. For Nellie, that meant a lot of years around boys, and boys things. It isn’t the worst situation in the world, and she loved her sons after all, but like households with all daughters, it is a bit lopsided. Usually, the odd man out, whether father or mother, doesn’t totally mind that situation, because they often feel a little bit special. They seem to be doted upon a lot of the time. I know this, because that’s how it was in our family. My dad was the only male in the house, and while he always treated our mom like a queen, something that has always made me think of him as one of the last of a dying breed of men. As for his girls, mom, my sisters, and me, well, we always doted on Dad. When he got home from work, we were all excited. We made sure his dinner was ready, because he worked so hard. You know, just making him feel like the king of the castle. Not that we didn’t get in trouble, or rebel now and then, but we tried to make his homecomings special. Still, the thing that he wouldn’t have in his life for many years was a son, or for my dad, a son-in-law.
Sometimes, those in-laws can be a real problem. They don’t get along with the mother-in-law, or the mother-in-law really didn’t want to suddenly have girls in the family. They like their specialness. I have been blessed with a wonderful mother-in-law, and of course, she had daughters and sons, so I didn’t come as a culture shock to her either. Bob’s great grandmother was such a sweet person, as were the daughters-in-law that I have had the pleasure of knowing. They seemed to genuinely love each other.
I have talked to many people about their in-laws, and while most like their in-laws, some have said their in-laws are a nightmare. I think that is so sad…for both of them. I believe there is something good in most people. I know that there are some that are horrible, but on the average I think most are good. Nevertheless, as daughters-in-law go, Bob’s great grandmother’s daughters-in-law were wonderful people, as was she. It may have been a culture shock at first, but once they got used to it, I think it was wonderful for all of them.
