Distilled to her essence.
As I reread my accounts of living in the moment with Mom, I am struck by her enduring sense of humor. This is from August 6, 2014. She was 95, with late-stage Alzheimer’s and very, very funny.
We sit down for our Scrabble game with my usual opening gambit.
Hi Mom, shall I beat you at Scrabble?
She balls up her fists in mock aggression.
Noooo, I don’t think so…and I wouldn’t want to make you cry.
In the middle of the game, she was having a hard time finding a word.
Do something that will help me. I’m very old you know. You should help a poor old lady.
Usually when you get as old as I, you’re very intelligent.
At the end of the game, we put the board away and get ready for a walk. I ask if I can use her bathroom. Normally she grins, puts out her hand and asks for 50 cents. This time it was 97 cents.
Shall we talk a walk? I ask.
If you think you can walk that far.
Very feisty. She enjoys the banter immensely.