Melancholy

A feeling of pensive sadness, with no obvious cause.

The strains of Mary Poppins play in the background – I can hear Baby Girl humming along. The cat is in his custom built cat tower right next to my desk. I’ve got someone coming to feed the horses for me while I can’t. I found a pony for Baby Girl to start showing on. You would think my life is right on track.

Except it isn’t. The wetness, the dreariness, the boredom of not being able to do much with this cast on my foot. I am drowsy and I want to sleep. I want to escape – from what? I haven’t a clue. Just to go somewhere where I don’t have to think, or dwell or act. I know the word is depression. I know it well. I wonder if someday my constant companion will take up his hat and his suitcase and go. I long for that day.

It crept up on me. Through the years I know I’ve suffered from that word. But in the last two years he’s crawled his way in and just won’t depart. If I can pinpoint it, it must be when I learned my mom has Alzheimer’s. It all goes back to that. To lose her without her actually going anywhere – it’s terribly unjust. To watch her falter, then flail, then just wither is more than anyone should have to bear.

In these COVID times, with the facility she is at, I have not been able to see her, or spend any time with her. She is more distant from me than she has ever been. I have no idea of her day to day-ness. Nobody tells me anything about how she is doing, if she’s eating, if she’s sleeping, if she tries to talk about us. I hear Nothing and Nothing has angered me.

A week from Monday I am moving her to another facility. A much smaller place with only 12 residents total. It’s like a home, where everyone is together much of the time. Where the residents can go sit outside on the front porch as much as they want. Where the director will get her a cheeseburger from McDonald’s if she desires one. Where there is plenty of nature – birds, horses, trees and flowers. A gazebo just outside her window. I’ve ordered the cat a cat tree to put beside the window.

There is no locked door to keep people out.. or in. Only the front door to be locked at night as you would anywhere you live. Her bedroom is across from the kitchen – where the ladies and caretakers gather to help cook if they like. The meals are all freshly made, and made to order. There is only one floor and very little space for her to trip and fall. There are games days and activities for ALL – families invited. Now, of course there are still COVID restrictions. But the truth is I can go and see her anytime I like, I can take Baby Girl. My Dad can go every day if he wants to. She’ll only be twenty minutes away and it’s going North – no traffic to contend with!

I am worried, of course, that the move will be hard on her. She’s been where she’s at for nine months. She’s gotten used to it. But I haven’t. I need her close to me. I need to see her, and be with her. And of course, how would I know if she’s happy? Certainly nobody is telling me she’s NOT. Why would they? When they try to FaceTime so that we can see each other more often than not I can’t even hear her, and she can’t hear me, due to all the background noise. They give her the phone to give her some “privacy” while she talks to me but she can’t even hold the phone so that I can see her face! It aggravates me so much I stopped bothering.

I’m looking forward to the move. I believe it’s the best possible outcome for all of us. Baby Girl asks me all the time when is Granny coming home? It’s the hardest thing in the world to tell her she’s not. At least now she’ll be able to see her weekly – at least!

And maybe my old companion will let up a little. Maybe he’ll go on a vacation. If I can feel like my Mom is truly settled and happy then maybe, just maybe, I can be happy too.