Everyday this week she has called me up in the Public Information Office.
“Who am I speaking with, please?”
I tell her she has the City’s Public Info Office.
“I need to talk to someone about my house. There are people living in my house, and I paid for that house. They have changed the locks. I live in Presbyterian Manor. I need to get them out of my house.”
Presbyterian Manor is what is frequently referred to as “The Rest Home.” It is a place where many elderly end up when they can no longer be alone in their own houses. It’s a bit of a red flag that she is calling about her house, but can’t live there. I am beginning to think that her children have placed her in Presbyterian Manor and sold her house. The day before her story was a bit different.
“Hello, who am I speaking with, please?”
I tell her she has reached the City’s Public Information Office.
“Somebody is trying to take my house. It has For Sale signs in the yard. I paid for that house. Why is somebody trying to take it?”
On that particular day I had transferred her to the Property Management Office just to make sure there wasn’t a municipal lean on it. Today, I transferred her to the County Courthouse.
“How do I get these people out?” she had asked me again.
“Have you talked to the police?” I said.
“They said I would have to get an attorney,” she replied.
I am sad that this lovely elderly woman has had to leave her house. It is a journey than many people have to make at some point toward the end of their lives. It may be easier for some than others, but most likely very difficult for those who lived many years in one place.
“I would like my house back,” she repeats.
I want to tell her that she can take those beautiful memories: memories of sitting next to her husband on the lawn, of playing with her little dog in the yard, of fitting her daughter with the perfect lace dress, of batting down during crazy spring storms, of lighting the perfect fire on a cold night, of praying for her son while he was away in the Army, of finding the perfect rug, cleaning the windows, lighting candles, waving goodbye to her children, of Christmases, Easters, Thanksgiving Turkeys…. I want to tell her that she can take these moments and she can package them up with beautiful lavender wrappings, and she can carry these wherever she goes and that nobody can take them from her. She can carry these memories, snippets of time back to Presbyterian Manor and she can take them out one-by-one as she needs to. I would like to tell her to do this and to go out and live these last few moments by sharing them with those who are near to her now and who need to be reminded that we can still find love and comfort in the world, and there are some things that can never be taken from us.
Those People in Her House
Published inpoetry
It’s so much more than the material, isn’t it?
Yes it is…and so very sad….
This reminds me of my Mom. She sometimes gets confused and once walked out of her senior living apts. and walked a few blocks away. She wanted to ‘go home,’ she told a neighboring hospital. They called the police and she told them her old address. She could say her name but forgot where she now lived. She had a big dog, a husband and three children. Now, she has a little dog and three living children. She has been trying to make friends, leave notes to remind herself of things, but I feel her slipping slowly away. This was a lovely post and the idea of wrapping a life up in lavender paper and making it a lovely story was just perfect!
Thank you for the lovely compliment. This is a tough subject. Alzheimers/senility is hard for not only those going through it but also for their loved ones. Hopefully research will soon uncover some solutions to help manage it.
If this is true then I wish you had more time to talk with this lady. You likely can’t tell her what you wish for her, but if you had the time you could show her by listening. I feel that she keeps ringing because no-one is listening to her. On some level she probably knows exactly what is happening, but her heartbreak is not being received and shared. I don’t know I just feel an empathy with this story.
Hello, and thank you for reading my blog. Yes, it is a true story. I actually did talk with her for 3 days (every day she called, her story was a little different, from first being locked out of the house, the second time was that the bank had for sale signs in the front yard, the third day, there were people living in her house); therefore I am pretty sure that she is forgetting about having to relocate. The care home that she is calling from does have a great professional staff, that I am probably certain, are working with her. If she does call me again, which she very well may, I am going to refer her to some wonderful, compassionate agencies in town that work with the aging. I am almost sure that she will call again. It is a very sad story. It reminds me of a song by Sawyer Brown called The Walk, where the son starts out walking down the driveway with his dad on his first day of school, then ends with walking down the driveway having to put his dad in a care home.