What the Silence Says...other Observations...and Birdhouses

The last few weeks of my life have been, well........interesting. I've found it next to impossible to write. Hard to even THINK about writing for that matter. Mom is still in the nursing home, so Dad and I go over every afternoon and visit her for an hour or so. This is all fine but it tends to tighten up my morning, which is when I workout, work at my "real" job (writing and editing science textbooks), have breakfast, do the morning chores, check email. By the time we get home from visiting Mom (around three), it's time to make "a meal" (as I call it, because the term "dinner" or "lunch" doesn't really fit. For me, it's just "a meal," THE primary meal of the day, and it seems to always end up happening around three or four in the afternoon). The afternoon just seems to disappear.

Anyway........it's been tough to find the time to write, let alone to know what to write about. But.........as we were driving home this afternoon from the nursing home, it suddenly occurred to me that I did have something to write about--the things I've noticed since the Nursing Home chapter has begun. Here they are, in no particular order:

1. I LIKE visiting Mom in the nursing home! Seriously. I genuinely, sincerely look forward to visiting with her. For anybody who knows me, knows my relationship with my mother, this is pretty darned incredible. But I swear to you, it's true--I really enjoy hanging out at the nursing home, listening to what Mom had for breakfast, or lunch, or dinner, what the crazy old lady down the hall did yesterday, which nurse nobody likes, or which of the male aides Mom has a crush on this week. I find it, I dunno, relaxing. I even like the nursing home itself. I can't explain this because the last time Mom was at (the same) nursing home, I resented every time I had to walk into the building--the smell, the people, the staff. It turned my stomach. But this time? I'm like Mary Freakin'Sunshine! I bring in fresh flowers for Mom; I stroll through the front doors and greet whoever is sitting in the lobby (cuz there is ALWAYS at least one resident sitting right there, staring out into foreverland); I even say hello to the crusty old geezers who, honestly, look like sitting corpses, but who always break out into these glorious grins when somebody offers them a simple ,"HI!" Yeah. Go figure. I am lovin' the nursing home.

2. The next thing I've noticed is that on the way to see Mom, Dad always manages to come up with some story I have never heard before. Yesterday, it was about the time when he was working as a lifeguard down in SoCal and he and another lifeguard busted some old guy and his son who ran a bait store. Seems the father-son duo was slitting the gullets of pelicans who kept stealing the bait out of the bait box. Dad was remembering how heartbreaking it was to see the pelicans trying and trying to eat, but couldn't because of the big slits in their gullet. He said he was feeling the same way about the oil-slathered birds and fish that are falling victim to the latest oil spill crisis down in Louisiana.

3. The flip side to the talkity-talkity nature of our drive TO the nursing home is the deafening silence of the trip BACK. Silence. Absolute and total silence. Dad doesn't even comment on the "Poor Ole Horse" in front of the big yellow house. The entire drive home. Nothing. Not just a pregnant pause. This is an entire twenty minutes of profound silence. Pretty unusual for my dad.

Of course, I suppose I could say something but the truth of the matter is, I don't really feel like talking either. What does this silence say? Well.......what the silence tells me is that Dad is processing. In fact, we're both processing. I know that, for me anyway, I spend the drive home problem-solving. Trying to think through the logistics of every possible scenario regarding Mom's return, or failure to return, home. Maybe Dad's doing the same thing. Not sure. I don't ask. If he wants to tell me, he will.

The other thing I've noticed is that my relationship with my father has become amazingly rich and rewarding. I'm more patient with him. I WANT to listen to him more. I WANT to ask him questions about...whatever. And the house is different too. There is a clarity in the air that I can't describe. I'm cooking more. I'm sitting in rooms I rarely used to enter. I hear the birds chirping ALL THE TIME!

It all makes me wonder........maybe the responsibility of caring for Mom was having a bigger effect on me than I thought. (Cue the collective, "Duh!" from the readers.) So......it makes me wonder......Would it make more sense to have Mom stay in the nursing home?........But then, what would the purpose of that be?........To improve MY quality of life? What about Mom's quality of life? Would it be better in a nursing home? Or would the nursing home just prolong her already-very-full life? And how do I harness the positive attitude I have about the house now and somehow nurture and maintain it when/if Mom comes home?

I'll close with Dad's latest project. As you know, it's the growing season. The grass, the flowers, the birds. Every thing's growing and reproducing like crazy. I have to fill the birdfeeders almost daily. So the other day, Dad blurts out in the middle of our drive over to see Mom, "BIRDHOUSES!"

I knew there was more so I simply said, "Okay.....?"

Then he continued, "Let's get some birdhouses for all the birdies (Yes, he really said, birdies.)."

I quickly processed through my mental Rolodex of pros and cons--better than getting a dog, minimum extra work for me, hours and hours of enjoyment for Dad. "OK!" I said.

So we now have two little birdhouses hanging in the maple trees in front of the living room window. Dad watches them like a hawk.