“If she were my mother, she’d be living here with us.”
The words just came out. My husband and son didn’t respond. It was something I’d thought about since the MIL was secured in senior independent living last March.
She was acclimating to the new environs, prized possessions were transferred. She was interacting in social activities, cheering up a bit, improving her outlook. Everyone was relieved.
Then, a downturn; her family physician retired, the new doctor admitted her to the hospital for observation and testing. It did not go well, it scared her. She spent time talking to Jesus, praying to die.
Now she has isolated herself in her apartment, refuses to go to the dining hall, schedules her life around doctor appointments, nurses and therapists. She is no longer independent, favoring wheelchair over walker.
I feel like she should be living with family.
My husband is the firstborn; but her choice would most likely be the only daughter, who lives in another state, and runs a business out of her home.
She used to say, jokingly, that she would go live with “her lovely daughter-in-law.”
Was she was asking for an invitation, or just testing my reaction ? In many ways, it makes sense, we are retired now, and would be better company.
We do not like each other. There is love, affection, mutual respect. We are different in ways too complex to discuss here. There would be conflict, I would have trouble keeping my opinions to myself.
Diplomacy went out the window with menopause…for both of us.
I lost my mother at age 53. We had a troubled relationship. If she was in this same position, that wouldn’t matter. She’d be living with one of us, most likely me.
Time will tell. This story will no doubt be continued.