This post is pretty rough, but it is what it is.
My Mom, Irene Hargrove Merrell died this past Monday, September 30. 2013.
You can see the dates on my mom's little autobiography. The only form in which I had it was as typed pages. I simply copied them here as images.
Since Mom's record ends 13 years ago, I added an addendum. I haven't edited it, so again it is what it is. I just wanted to get some stuff down while it was on my mind and the rest of the families.
I hope reading about my mom will bless you, as knowing her has blessed many.
Added by Howard:
Until about 2007 Mom's life continued in the same pattern. She enjoyed living in her little apartment that is attached to my house. She enjoyed visits from the other kids and from the grandkids who were now out on their own. Christopher, her oldest Grandchild gave her the name Gooma. I think it was because in Christopher's world all the regular names for a grandparent/great-grandparent had been used up, so "Gooma" it was. The other greats followed along & soon even we adults referred to mom as "Gooma."
The situation where mom lived was ideal. She was very close to Kathy and I, yet on her own. She had her own kitchen, laundry, car. Half of the garage was hers. She parked her car there and had shelves for storage. She even had a "backyard." It consisted of a small deck, a little table with two chairs, a couple of planters and a bench, where she would often sit in the sun. The warmth seemed to help her arthritis.
As mom indicated she had suffered with various ailments most of her life. I was amazed at the level of health mom enjoyed at this point in her life. She often went to Texas in the winter time to visit my brother and avoid the worst of the cold and snow. She enjoyed meetings with a quilting group, outings with the Senior Saints, and all things related to her church. I'm glad to say that, while she had days that were made hard by sickness and pain, and she never really got over missing Dad, she was quite happy.
Kathy and I began to notice, however, that Mom was more forgetful. We were concerned that she wasn't taking her medicine properly, things like that. One day, unknown to her, I followed her to Walmart, to see if she could still drive. She passed, and stayed on the road for a few more months. After eye surgery the doctor told her not to drive for a time. She planned to drive again. Kathy and I had our doubts. She had allowed one of our sons to use her car while she was grounded. It needed some work. She wanted it fixed, so we had it fixed, probably spending more than it was worth. As the time approached for her release from the doctor, Kathy and I were sure mom shouldn't drive any more. We talked to my siblings and they agreed. I dreaded the conversation, but a day or two before her medical release she and I were alone at church.
"Mom, the other kids and I don't think you should drive any more."
With barely any hesitation she replied something like, "OK."
It took another thirty seconds to discuss what to do with her car. I suggested giving it to one of her granddaughters who was going away to school. She thought that was a good idea. In less than two minutes the dreaded conversation was finished and she never complained afterwards.
I'm not sure if mom's mind went back to the days when I was four and five, and we lived in a small apartment in Harvey IL, maybe. The apartment, back then, had poor heat, especially in the kitchen, so to warm the space mom would sometimes light the oven and open the oven door. The apartment she lived in a few years ago, had a little electric range. She got in a habit of turning it on for heat, sometimes forgetting she had done so. We also found a strange odor in her apartment one day. Investigation revealed that she had put some chicken in her stove one day, and forgotten about it. If I remember correctly it wasn't even cooked. After a few days, the stench got pretty bad.
About the same time she began to mix up her medicine. We had been using one of those seven day pill boxes for some time. Maybe on Wednesday, mom would notice that Monday and Tuesday were empty, so she would take pills from Wednesday- Saturday and put them in the empty compartments. On a couple of occasions she found some pills she wasn't even taking any more and supplemented several day's stock.
We turned off the breaker to her stove, and found all her medications and took them to our house. We would give her her meds. three times a day. As long as she was in the apartment she was still able to make coffee, and work the toaster. She would get her own breakfast most days. It might consist of toast with chocolate pudding on it, but she got breakfast. We would eat one meal together, either in her apartment or at our house, and for the other meal we would bring her a plate. Several times she mentioned to Kathy, "I think something is wrong with my stove."
Kathy would go over and appear to fiddle with the controls, and announce, "You know, I think there is."
Mom would again forget for a while. Kathy was glad she never lied to her, or had to have an unpleasant confrontation.
Shortly before mom moved out of her apartment, Kathy and I planned to take a trip to Texas to see our son and his family, and my brother. We took mom along. It was her last trip (other than the final move she made to Indiana.). Her inability to adapt, her obvious lost-ness in unfamiliar surroundings, and some struggles with personal hygiene made it absolutely clear that she needed other living arrangements. My sister, Judy, had recently become an empty-nester. She had room and wanted mom to make her final home with her. Since her twin sister, Carol, lives about a half mile away, the situation was ideal. Mom had a very nice two room suite, with her own bath. For most of the time she was there she was able to come to the table and get her meals. At first she helped with simple tasks like folding laundry or helping with meal preparation. As her mind deteriorated she would "straighten up her room" which consisted of taking all of her clothes out and replacing them in new locations. Finding them provided my sister with excitement.
Fairly soon Mom forgot her old home.
She couldn't name any grandkids.
Ted, Becky, Kathy and I became unknowns, though it appeared to me by some of her gestures that Mom knew we were someone who belonged.
She began to confuse Judy with Carol, and then couldn't remember either of them.
One of the most difficult times for my sister were the times when mom would cry with confusion. She couldn't remember who she was.
Finally, her mind dulled to the point that she wasn't confused, just, mostly, blank. I likened her life to looking out of a moving vehicle through a narrow slit. She saw nothing of the past, or future, just the immediate present, which I am glad to say still had moments of joy for her. Probably her chief joy involved little children. She enjoyed meeting Fiona, my brother's older grandchild and Gooma's seventh great. She was able to meet number eight, Ava Rae, via Skype. My Brother and I were at moms for a visit. Mom reached out her hand and tried to touch the babies face that she was seeing on the computer screen. For that moment she was happy.
For quite a while whoever was feeding mom would have to repeatedly remind her to take another bite. A few weeks ago, those reminders became ineffective. She stopped eating, and then stopped swallowing liquids. Hospice came to help. In her emaciated condition, bedsores appeared. Thankfully, they were controlled, but with no nourishment it was clear that mom would soon die.
In a flash of clarity that my sister will treasure for all her life. Mom looked at her and told her, "I love you too."
A couple of days later Mom died.
What a privilege it was to know her and be a part of her family.
HM, October 5, 2013
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