February - 2019

She Ain't Heavy, She's My Mother

Jane

Feb 5, 2019

Mum's been sprung

5.2.19. Every morning, while I’m in the kitchen preparing breakfast, mum disappears into my room. She has a routine that she follows precisely. First, like I previously mentioned, she draws my curtains with two paper clips. Then she moves my nightie from the door where it’s hanging, to a wardrobe door handle (most impractical). She then folds any clothing that I’ve left for the dirty wash and lays it neatly on my bed. Next she takes my phone charger cord and wraps it tightly

Mum is 97 or maybe 98, according to the Lodz Ghetto records. Till now, she has lived a rich and vibrant life, despite living through the war and its aftermath. In 2017, after dad died, she made the decision to move in with me. Instead of feeling burdened, I embraced the change and the opportunity to care for her.

These posts capture mum’s precious last years living with me in my home - a ‘share home’ - with other family members and housemates - who all support, appreciate and love having her around.

Many of us are not familiar or get a chance to be involved in the lives of the very old. I wanted to documents the years with mum as a record for the generations to come, (and others who might be interested) that reveal the daily joys and challenges of caring for a loved one with dementia.

As an afterthought, we know that mum hasn’t always been old. In these posts I also aim to include the heart-felt and awe inspiring stories from her earlier years.

MY PERFECT MAN

My Man in Melbourne

An Ode to a Human Painting Machine

Ketubot/Marriage Contracts

An Ode to a Human Painting Machine

janeKormanART

She Ain't Heavy, She's My Mother