I'm so glad to see you, whoever you are.

Leola was overjoyed to see us, but didn't have any idea who we were. She knew our names and knew she knew us from somewhere in her life, but little else. We didn't prompt her and kept the conversation light. She didn't remember that Jon had been there a few days ago, didn't remember she had lived with us, but she did ask if we were married! She dwelled on the marriage topic and kept coming back to it. She has lost so much language and ability to construct sentences that it was hard to follow her at times, but she was positive, cheerful and giddy like a child. Out of curiosity, Jon never gave her the information that he is her son. The care giver hadn't known we were coming, so couldn't have prepped her. She never knew him as her son during the 30 minute visit. She talked about going home , her mother and father who would be coming to get her.

She said, "I don't think I was married much. I think I had a husband, but I don't remember." She turns to Jon, "I didn't marry you did I?" He laughs and shakes his head.

Later, after asking for the 3rd time how long we'd been married, she said to me, "You got a good one, but I had him first."

Is this when I get all Bill Clinton on her and say, "It depends on what the meaning of "had" is"?

All I say is, "Yes, I've got a good one."

I couldn't help asking her if she had children. She thinks for a minute and says, "Yes, I think I had a boy and a girl, but I don't remember. I don't know where they are now. Oh, I don't remember much of anything anymore."

When we are in the car driving home I quietly say, "I'm sorry."

He says, "It's easier this way. I'd rather she not know me than saying 'Jon, get me the hell out of here!' This way, she just keeps thinking she's going to be going home soon, just like she did when she lived with us. It doesn't seem to matter where she is. We know she was happy to see us and she's well cared for.

And we both know we couldn't give her that care. It's OK.

Miles of birthdays

We drove over to Bend yesterday. Although I've been here a couple of times this summer, Jon hasn't been here since last December and he hasn't seen Whitney and Micah's new Bread LaVoy operation. He also wanted to get in a couple of higher elevation bike rides in preparation for Cycle Oregon which starts next weekend. Whitney was somewhat taken aback at Jon's tired face and thin body. Other people have told him he looks tired, too. He says he is sleeping well enough, but undoubtedly the stress of the last few months has taken its toll on him. He has also been putting in many miles on his bike which can be harder on a 61 year old than on a younger man's body. Although she is still alive, I know in my heart that Jon is also grieving the loss of his mother. And his sister. Today would have been Bonnie's 53 birthday. Since Daniel's birthday is Sept. 10, we often celebrated Dan and Bonnie's birthdays together when Dan was younger, usually over Labor Day weekend.

I decided to go with Jon on Cycle Oregon, not as a rider obviously (I don't even own a bike) but as a guest. I'll sleep in the tent with him and have breakfast and dinner at the campsite, but otherwise I'll drive from campsite to campsite each day doing my own thing. I think this trip will be really good for both of us to get completely away for a week with just the beauty of southern Oregon's back roads with us.

Swept Away

The deck needs sweeping. Since we have so many tall trees around our house, debris is continually falling on the deck. In her search for something useful to do, Leola swept off the deck regularly all summer and she did a damned good job. Sometimes the task would take her an hour to do. I have numerous potted plants and flowers out there and she always took care to sweep around them all. Our deck never looked as clean as it looked during the last 3 months. I guess I'll have to get back to the sweeping.

Jon went to visit her. He was obviously wary of her reaction to him given the picture-stabbing incidents. She may have been prepped for his visit by Ligia, the caregiver, because Leola recognized him immediately as her son. To Jon's relief, she introduced him to others saying, "This is my son". Not "my husband". He said she asked, "How's Julie?" and even said, "You picked a good one. I think you can keep her. I approve." Now Jon seems to think the whole Julie-as-the-slut delusion is over with and she is back to being his mom again. Of course he wants to think his mother is back. He desperately wants it. I'm not so sure it's true. But I wasn't there. However, I found the picture frames, minus the mutilated photos of us, in the garage after his visit.

Post Script (to my bad day last week):

My brother Patrick is not going to Iraq after all. His director didn't appove it because he couldn't do without him for 6 months. Pat's disappointed, but I'm relieved.

Daniel is not moving home. I never really thought he would, but he always calls me when he's at his lowest point, teary and defeated, wanting his mother's comfort. This happens less often than it used to, but it is still upsetting for me. I'll worry about him for hours or days, then I'll call him and he will have moved on - the crisis forgotten. Similar to Jon and his mother - only in reverse.

a vacant room

I have to admit it's a relief to have Leola gone. Still I miss her. In a way, it seems like she died rather than moved to foster care. Her room still has furniture in it and lots of her clothes still hang in the closet and are stuffed in drawers. Boxes of her things are still here, but she is not. There is a sadness in our house that feels similar to death, but yet it isn't.

I remember when my mother died 3 years ago and I had to leave my brother's house in Birmingham, AL (where she had lived with him) to go back to my life in Oregon. She died on a Sunday, just hours after I had arrived on a seemingly endless flight from Portland to Atlanta to Birmingham. I like to think she was waiting for me. During the next few days my brothers and I took care of arrangements for cremation, cleared out her clothes, boxed up her stuff, laughed and cried when we went through old photos. It was a healing time for the four of us. The funeral was to be much later at Arlington Cemetery in Washington where our father was buried. I'll never forget the day I had to leave to come back to Oregon and the feeling of pervasive sadness in Patrick's house. How difficult it must have been for him to say goodbye to us that day and be left in the house with her empty room, seeing it day after day. I don't think I've ever missed anyone as much as I missed my brothers in the days after I returned.

I avoid going downstairs where her room is because it seems ghost-like. Yet I know we are going to have to deal with all this stuff of hers sometime. Even if she can't stay at the foster care home and needs to move somewhere else, she won't have room for all of her clothes. I thought we might trade them out from time-to-time, to give her something "new" to wear while we dry clean some of the sweaters. She loves her clothes. I hate it that she can't have them all with her.