“I know it’s the right thing to do…I know it’s the right thing to do…I know it’s the right thing to do.” I kept repeating this to myself as I left my mom tonight.
Today I informed my mother of her move-in date. She seemed to accept it. She also told me a couple came up yesterday to look at her apartment.
I suggested that maybe she go through all of her clothes and see if there are any she might not want anymore and that we can pass on to charity. She said, “I like them all!” At that point I just said, “OK.”
I also talked about what furniture was likely to make the move with her. When I mentioned that some pieces in the living room wouldn’t fit in the apartment, a look of aghast came over her face. I reasoned with her that she’s moving from a large 1-bedroom apartment to a studio apartment. I asked her if she wanted to see the apartment even though the previous resident still had some furniture in it and obviously the remodel had not started. She said yes.
So, as we walked from IL to AL we both faced my biggest fear — some residents sitting in the AL lobby watching TV, some of whom I’ve seen there on other occasions — the same ones with kind of vacant looks. My mom uttered under her breath, “Oh G-d!”
We continued walking to her hall and at the end by the window was a man in a wheelchair. He looked like he was napping. Mom uttered another sigh.
I understand how she felt. I felt the same way.
We got to her room and it was actually larger than I remembered; she even had a decent size walk-in closet — heaven knows she’ll need it! She even commented that the room looked plenty big.
According to my furniture measurements, more than I thought will probably fit and I described to mom where certain pieces could go. She seemed satisfied yet a little indifferent. BFF C. is going to do an Autocad drawing of the room and block in the furniture so we can actually see how everything will fit.
After an afternoon of manis & pedis I took mom back to get ready for dinner. Looking around her apartment I mentioned that she’ll be able to take her entire bedroom, and that the only pieces in the living room that wouldn’t make it would be her coffee table, one of the chairs and the bookcase, which isn’t too bad…all things considered!
In a statement/question, I said, “OK?” She replied, “Not really.” I reassured her it will be OK.
This is exactly how I felt when I moved her here from Florida, wondering if I did the right thing. She adjusted, and I know it was the right thing to do. Just like now, I know it’s the right thing to do on so many levels, but the pain that goes along with it is stinging.