It was a gorgeous day, so I trundled Esther out to get some sunshine, gave her some little yellow butterworts or maybe yarrow, whatever, and sat on a bench near her to talk. She thinks I am somebody who worked for “Wortham” or something like that. (NB: “Worthingtons,” where several of her relatives worked)
Esther enjoyed the sun, but it got too hot after about 10 minutes so we finished our talk on the outside front porch. We were discussing why so many people won’t visit nursing homes. She bought the idea that lots live far away, or relatives have died. Others just don’t come, she said. “They don’t come because they are afraid of death,” she explained. Sharp lady! It’s not that they can’t stand to see their relatives or friends in the nursing home as much as the whole things hits their own mortality very hard. I have always said people don’t like funerals and they mourn–their own forthcoming deaths. They probably see themselves imprisoned in nursing homes as well.
We had a good talk today. She is looking well and repeated her philosophy of “It is what it is.” We talked about the fact as we age we find we can do less and less, having to give up many things we once enjoyed. But somewhere she has gotten a strong faith that she doesn’t control things and lets God do it. I think I profited more from our talk than she did. But, as always, she was glad to see somebody, even if she can’t remember even the next minute who they are. I felt good about the visit. She is something dear and special.