My mother-in-law was looking at a photograph the other day
from my father-in-law’s 95th birthday party. It’s a beautiful (and
relatively recent) photograph of her, her late husband and their four children.
My husband, Glenn, is right there in the
picture, taking his place as their youngest child.
Gazing at it, my mother-in-law suddenly looked puzzled. “I guess this was taken before Glenn was
born,” she said.
Somehow, in the concealing cobwebs that come with dementia,
my mother-in-law has displaced my husband. She can name her children; she just confuses the chronology of events. In her mind, Glenn was born about 10 years ago, long after the rest of the children were born.
We laugh about it. We
joke that I robbed the cradle (even though I’m actually 12 years younger than
my husband). But it’s sad.
My mother-in-law wants to remain active. She’s often insistent on getting her driver’s
license renewed. She says she’ll take
driving lessons if needed. She wants to
be able to run to the grocery store. I
just say “OK” and change the subject.
Then I worry about who’s going to take us to the grocery store in 40
years. Who’s going to decide it’s time
to take away our keys? Bailey will
probably be far too busy by that point.
Not long ago, as we were preparing to go out for dinner, my
mother-in-law’s caregiver phoned. My
mother-in-law needed to speak to my husband.
Immediately. Glenn got on the
phone and listened as his mother told him that she wanted to volunteer at the
library.
So I called the Jones Creek library and left a message for
the director. Then I sent an email. I got no response, which I found incredibly
rude. Never one to accept silence as an
answer (just ask my husband), I phoned the Main Library. This time, a very helpful man explained that
they really don’t use volunteers, even volunteers in the form of retired
librarians.
I’m at a dead end. I
thought my mother-in-law could read to kids or help prepare craft
projects. I thought she could do
something.
And herein is my frustration. My mother-in-law may be struggling with what
sometimes comes with advanced age, but she also shouldn’t just sit on the couch and
watch television all day, every day. She
needs to do something.
My husband would argue that I would be perfectly fine with
watching television all day, every day – and there is some truth to that. However, I also read. I sew.
I craft. I pull weeds in the
garden. I put together scrapbooks. I cook.
I write. I play games on my
computer. I clean the house. I organize the cabinets. I index genealogy records on a volunteer
basis. I do things, even if it’s not
what my very opinionated husband thinks I should be doing. I’m very content puttering around the house,
keeping busy. I scold him because he
lacks hobbies. What the heck is he going
to do when he retires?
You need a purpose, even if your purpose is finally getting
around to pasting those 10-year-old vacation photos into a scrapbook.
I recently read a book called “Dark Corners” by Ruth
Rendell. In it, one of the characters
retires and discovers that idleness isn’t what he thought it would be. Then he turns a certain age and the city of
London sends him a free bus pass. He
spends hours each day on the top deck of a London bus, seeing the sights and
learning the neighborhoods. He’s
perfectly content because he’s found a purpose for each day.
You need a purpose, even if it’s soaking in the sun on the
top deck of a bus.
