Mom and Old Blue Eyes.jpg

     Mary McWhorter-Banks 1925 – 2020                       

Uh-will the wind ever remember the names it has blow in the past?

                                      And with this crutch, its old age

          And its wisdom it whispers, “No, this will be the last”  – Jimi Hendrix

Mary is 94 years old with severe dementia, and resides in a hospice facility in Oklahoma. And she’s my mom. On November 6th, 2020 mom passed away from complications of Covid-19. This is the last moments I spent with mom.

************

Mom sits silently in her wheelchair vacantly staring at the bear wall above her bed. On occasion she will touch her locket that hangs around her neck. I know she feels like leaving, but she can’t go. Mom doesn’t know that this is her tomorrow. There are only fleeting moments when the depths of her dementia recedes, and she sees me sitting on her bed.

“What are you doing here?” She asks. 

As quickly as I can answer. Mom vanishes back into the dark corridors of her mind. She’s gone, only to be replaced with an empty stare to the white wall above her bed. My love for the woman who gave me life isn’t always available, but somewhere in moms mind I can only hope she knows that I have not abandoned her. 

I open my computer and start to play music to fill the void of silence in her room. Out of the corner of my sight, moms leg starts to gently move, I slowly turn my head so as not to detract from moms gaze. Following her leg down to the tip of her fuzzy pink slipper. Mom begins to tap the metal footrest of her wheelchair. Mom smiles, and the paleness of her cheeks disappears and is replaced with a rosy pink color hue. I wonder, what if I play music from her youth.

Playing a mix of Frank Sinatra songs, the room fills with big band music with “Ol’ Blue Eyes” at the mic.

“ I always liked him” she says somewhat abruptly. 

“Mom were you a bobby-soxer?”

There is a pause as mom searches her past, “Yes.”  

She looks over at me after answering.

“Who are you?”  she ask 

“Mom, I’m your historian.”

A broom is drearily sweeping up the broken pieces of yesterdays life

Somewhere a queen is weeping

Somewhere a king has no wife

And the wind, it cries Mary  – Jimi Hendrix

I have had great adventures, and I will have adventure yet to come !

You know the kind~

An unusual and exciting, typically hazardous experience 

I will be confident, courageous and daring.

Being defiant, fearless and foolhardy with nothing to regret on surfing this life’s trip✨

Because to be routine is just a crime 

To be accepted and accustomed and chronic in my everyday life 

Means I have to be normal, ordinary, plain and unremarkable….. And that would surely be the end of me