And When She Was Old…

Thelma

I learned much from my mother during every phase of my life, but I didn't realize that fact until I was almost forty.

My mother was quiet and ever non-violent. She was loathe to speak ill of anyone and paid respect to all, whether it was due or not. In every sense of the word, she was a true pacifist.

She didn't like crowds, social activities or public attention of any sort. Often, she stayed home, waiting alone while Daddy, Donnie and I went about the business of fun and life. She only attended two school events, my graduation and that of my brother.

I thought she had no life apart from caring for her family. I thought she was boring and timid and weak. I couldn't have been more mistaken!

Two years before Alzheimer's Disease took her life, Mama came to live with us. Her brilliant mind was slipping away and she knew it. Now and then I would catch her weeping softly as she tried to remember who the faces were in her photo albums.

Yet as this creeping disease destroyed her sense of self and robbed her of all she had ever known, she was ever determined to comfort me—even when she no longer knew who I was.

It was during that time I began to realize just how much courage and class this tiny woman had. What a pity I failed to see that for so many years!

Henrietta

My mother-in-law was a strong, and often very determined woman. For several years after I married her youngest son, we did little to hide our dislike of one another. But time passes and spirits mellow, so eventually, we each began to respect and admire the other.

Our relationship was never completely smooth, however, because I was as opinionated as she (we were so alike!) and she was as stubborn as I.

All her life, Henrietta had been an activist. She was a mover and a shaker, a woman with political, social and emotional clout. Dignified almost to a fault and fiercely independent, she was almost universally intimidating.

Then, in rapid succession she lost most of her sight, her husband died and she became unable to care for herself due to repeated strokes. Finally, completely paralyzed, she was unable to even swallow her own saliva and required total, 24-hour a day care.

In spite of family objections, we cared for her in our home for the last year of her life. During all this time, her mind was as able as her body was unable.

I could see the pain in her eyes as she had to be turned in bed, fed through a stomach tube, have her "diapers" changed and suffer one indignity after another day in and day out. But she never uttered one word of complaint! Indeed, she was absolutely gracious at all times and to all people. Her inner beauty was an inspiration beyond telling and was sustained to the end.