Now There Is One…
Being 84 must be a horrible, lonely job.
Yesterday I visited Mom, who lives life to its fullest sitting in her power-recliner in her nice little room in an old folks home. It is a very attractive facility with all the amenities, overlooking a beautiful lake. Officially it is called a “Senior Retirement” property. As more of the residents have aged and developed various health problems, round the clock nursing care has been added for minor emergencies. It is not a nursing home, and they still resist use of the term “assisted living”, though that is really what it is becoming. Old folks home.
The trip is an easy 2 to 3 hour drive (depending on wind vector and bladder capacity) and one that I do not make often enough. Guilty? No… just wishful that I could stop in and see her more often the way my brother does. Of course he lives 15 minutes from her, wind and bladder be damned. As I breezed into her room carrying the joys of leftover Thanksgiving desserts, I realized something was not quite right, but thought it best to wait for her to tell me rather than try to pull it out of her. Her stubborn streak is all that remains of the once strong personality of a proud woman who could stand her ground with anyone. Sure enough, after a few minutes of chit-chat she told me that her best friend, Joanna, had died suddenly and unexpectedly the day before.
Their long friendship grew even closer after their husbands of 50+ years died a few years ago. Talking by phone daily if they could not see each other, they watched in quiet horror and grief over the past few years as their friends dropped, one by one, slowly but surely. Like singing “99 bottles of beer on the wall”, and counting all the way down to 2. And now there is one…
I took her to the funeral home where family and friends had gathered. As she made her way slowly to the casket to pay respects, the small pockets of people in the room quieted and watched knowingly. As Joanna’s son and I talked quietly, he nodded toward Mom leaning on her walker at casket-side. “They were best friends, you know. Closer than sisters.”
The trip home took a couple of hours longer than normal due to a massive multi-vehicle pileup on the interstate, which was completely shutdown and at a dead-stop for a while. That gave me plenty of time to think. Phrases like “the loneliness of age” and “the age of loneliness” kept rolling around in my head. Who does Mom call now? Who can she talk to? Sure, there are others her age at the old folks home, but no one that she is close to. Acquaintances, not friends. Fellow passengers, not bosom buddies. Though she still has family, none of us can replace her last friend. Mom is now alone and lonely. Many give up in this circumstance. I do not know if her stubborn streak is enough to keep her upright or not.
Moral of this story: Do not outlive your friends.
6 Comments so far
Having been through this with parents and in-laws, who have now all gone on, I totally sympathize with what you are feeling. That is one of the things they all talked about– this one has gone, that one and it is very depressing. When my mother lost her sister, it took a lot of the fun out of her life. Took away one who remembered her all her life. Life is sad– beautiful too but definitely sad and as Bette Davis said– Old age is not for sissies.
Going through some of this with my own family, too. A childhood truth still rings true: I fear growing very old more than I will ever fear death. I hope your mother makes new friends. Different, to be sure, but companionship all the same. Life is hard enough without the comfort of our fellow human beings.
“And now there is one …”
There is almost an echo inside this simple sentence refusing to end.
Your story brings to mind the last lines from Samuel Beckett’s Malloy novels reads, “… it will be I, it will be the silence, where I am, I don’t know, I’ll never know, in the silence ou don’t know, you must go on, I can’t go on, I will go on.”
Perhaps your mother will find her stubborn streak again for a while. -mg
Your post struck a chord in my heart. I too fear growing old and losing my independence. Particularly now with the beginnings of Macular Degeneration.
I remember when my father began collecting obituraries of friends and acquaintances. He had a small box full and finally stopped keeping them because it became too depressing.
I hope for your mother’s sake there are others around with whom she can form a friendship bond.
I was only thinking about this today and also the sad fact that so many women have to outlive their partners…Maybe I’m hormonal or something but I just think it’s not fair what women have to carry as they grow older - first the loss of fertility and then the loss of friends and partners..I’m terrified of it all…
I have been interested in the issues regarding age and growing older because I, at age 67, have ushered my mother and in-laws through the end years at ages 81, and 96. Now I am the guardian for an aunt who turned 105 in September. Baby Boomers can’t imagine being 105, but then neither can I, nor do I want to. Why can’t we figure out better ways to grow old?