When grace is joined with wrinkles, it is adorable. There is an unspeakable dawn in happy old age. – Victor Hugo
Your body is the medium and the message lies in and between the lines.
lf only we could read them … what stories they would tell … what lessons they would share … what mysteries they would unfold.
After all, they are the story, the power and the glory of life.
Mom loves her hats and she will wear one from dawn to dusk if you let her, even when she is taking her “capnaps”.
I love watching her and wondering just what’s dancing around in that head of hers.
I hope and pray for sweet dreams and by the looks of things, I believe that is just what she is having … the sweetest of sweet dreams!
Love this picture of love!
On this day, Dad would always say, “If your father wasn’t your father, then your mother wouldn’t be your mother, so celebrate your father on Mother’s Day!”
Miss you dad!
Love you mom!
I was told early on that dolls are often the best thing you can make available to a woman with dementia.
The maternal instinct seems to be eternal. Many women, and sometimes even men, find great comfort in holding and caring for their dolls?
Two dolls at Circle Center Adult Day Care have my mom’s name on them. They are hers and hers alone. Everyone at the Center knows and respects that.
I call them Mom’s Kids.
Mom’s Kids are wide awake and waiting in her big soft chair for her every morning. And, they are in her arms every evening when I come to take Mom home.
We have the same conversation every evening. Mom wants to take her kids home, and I suggest they spend the night there. She wants to know if they will have supper and a bed. After several assurances, she gives the OK and we are off.
I secretly call Mom’s Kids Nel and Tom named for my sister and me. The four of us are made from the same cloth and all of us have spent plenty of quality time in those arms of hers on the receiving end of her hugs and kisses. There is nothing like them.
And, speaking for the four of us, there is no one like our Mom. Those permanent smiles on all of Mom’s Kids’ faces, mine included, are a testament to that.
One thing’s for sure, Mom still has her mother’s instinct. I guess a mother’s love is almost impossible to take away.
Today, Mom and I had the following conversation on the drive home from Circle Center.
Me: Mamma, Mamma!
Mom: Yes?
Me: You are my Mamma, Mamma! Did you know that? My very own little Mamma, Mamma!
Mom: I have known that for a long time.
Me: Do you know how much I love you, Mom? One million tons! That is one heaping heavy load of love!
Mom: Well, I love you! I have always loved you. I have loved you forever … still do.
You always do the right thing instead of nothing.
You don’t spit and you don’t hit.
You know dirty words, but you don’t say them very much.
Me: (Thinking to myself, damn!) Mom, when I was baby, was I big or little?
Mom: You were just the right size. You were perfect perfection.
You did everything right, every time. Still do.
Me: Love you, Mamma Mamma.
Mom: I love you! I have always loved you.
Me: (Two hands on the wheel and one permanent smile on my face.)
Mom’s maiden name was Helen Douglas Martin.
Her married name is Helen Laughon.
For the last few years she has reverted back to her maiden name.
She is no longer my dad’s wife. She is Dr. Martin’s youngest daughter.
“I am Helen Douglas Martin. My daddy is Doctor B. H. Martin. He is the greatest doctor and smartest man in the United States of America. He has money running out of his ears.”
Mom has soundbite, epitaph-like descriptions about all of the key people in her life.
For my dad it’s, “Fred is a “good man. He cares about everyone.”
For my sister it’s, “Nel is a beautiful girl. She can do anything.”
Notice all three of these descriptions are present tense.
I consistently tell mom she is Helen Douglas Martin Laughon, mainly so I can feel the connection of our last name, while letting her maintain her core Martin identity, the identity her mind assures her she most certainly is … no doubt about it.
She is one of the four Martin siblings of which she is the youngest at six years old. The other three are all referred to in present tense, “Fanny Martin, Berkeley Martin, and Hunter Martin,” although mom has been the last one standing for quite some time now.
When I say, “Mom, you are Helen Douglas Martin Laughon,” she will agree with me. But, she will never add Laughon without me saying it first.
When I say it, she answers without any hesitation, “That is my name and it is a first page name.” I am not sure what that means exactly, but it does make it sound important.
No matter what she answers to or who she says she is, I am still “her boy”, thank goodness. And, thank goodness, I am still in the living, breathing present tense. “You are the best boy in the United States of America and you always know how to do the right thing at the right time.”
And … with that I have to agree one hundred percent! She is so right on.
The other day, mom added a little more length to her name on her own accord, without any prompting from me. When I asked her what her name was, she announced with a flair all her own, “My name is Helen Douglas Martin Laughon Love.”
Now, that was a mouthful for a six year old … and it took my breath away.
For, indeed, my mom is (present tense), always was (past tense) and always will be (future tense) Love.
Helen Douglas Martin Laughon Love.
Just as I was about to say, “See you later, alligator” to mom at Circle Center this morning (the hottest little adult daycare spot on this planet), someone announced it was exercise time.
Well, needless to say, mom was ready to rock ‘n roll and I was able to catch her solo act on video as she started to work it on out to her own beat.
She was finished about the time everyone else started, so she just put herself on rewind and kept on going long after her impromptu kick start.
She looked like the Energizer Bunny on steroids!
While I was videoing mom, I started singing to myself, “Well, shake it up, baby, now (shake it up, baby) …”
The best part of this whole little slice of life video is when mom hugs herself for a job well done and then looks up at me and shouts out, “I wuv ya.”
That’s what it’s all about.
Shake it up, baby, now (shake it up baby): twist and shout (twist and shout) …
You rock, girl! You are a genuine, one of a kind, rock star!
Well, shake it up, baby, now, (shake it up, baby)
Twist and shout. (twist and shout)
Cmon cmon, cmon, cmon, baby, now, (come on baby)
Come on and work it on out. (work it on out)
Mama, Mama, strong and able,
Get Your big foot off the table.
It’s not so much mom’s foot on the table that made me laugh out loud, it was the strong and able part.
I mean, how many of you expect to see a 93 year old hoist a leg up on the table, smiling and saying, “I’ve got something on the bottom of my shoe, and I need somebody to get it off.”?
Well, that was what happened at breakfast this morning.
Somehow, someway, a clump of mom’s ham and eggs made its way from her plate to the table to the floor and onto her shoe. And, before you could ask, What the heck are you doing, mom?”, her leg, foot and shoe were planted firmly on the table. If that wasn’t enough to crack you up, she was smiling from ear to ear.
With napkin in hand, I grabbed the culprit from her shoe and threw it in the trash.
Mom proclaimed me her hero. “How did you do that so good?” she asked.
I was thinking about asking her the same question.
“You are the best boy in the United States of America,” she said.
You are a Senior Olympics hopeful, I thought. You have a leg up on the competition. Just put your best foot forward. Get your foot in the door. Practice, practice, practice.
Pardon all the puns, but what a great way to kick start the day!
I hear your moans.
I see you smiling.
Warning: If you are over 90, don’t try this at home alone.
One may walk over the highest mountain one step at a time. – Barbara Walters
There are thirteen steps mom has to go down to leave her home and thirteen to go back up, again. She has made this trek everyday for two straight years. She has never been sick, never complained, and never missed a day. Up and down, down and up, up and down, down and up, every day!
And, I’ve been there with her all the way. I am in front and facing her going down and following her going up … the better to catch her if needed. And, I am proud to report, I have never been needed. Mom just grabs hold of the stair rails and counts to thirteen our loud and, before you know it, she has accomplished her mission … never missing a step or a beat.
Mom always ask if I want to go first, and when I tell her she’s the guide, she simply says, “I know,” and off she goes.
I multiplied 26 (total steps in a round trip) x 365 (days in a year) x 2 (years) x 8″ (height of each step) and divided by 12″ (number of inches in a foot) for a grand total of 12,623 feet!
That’s how many feet of stairs mom and I have both walked in two years. Divide that by two and you have 6327 feet going up and 6327 feet going down for each of us.
If those steps were going up a mountain, they would top Mount Rodgers, the tallest mountain in Virginia, by 599 feet. And, as much again to get back down.
Every time we climb those thirteen steps together I celebrate the courage, will and determination of mom.
Mom is my Sky High Climber and there are no limits to the peaks she’ll meet on her climb to the heavens … one step at a time.
It is not the mountain we conquer but ourselves. – Edmund Hillary
Mom’s last words on this video are, “Aw … isn’t that sweet.”
And, that sums up this too short, wonder filled peek at mom loving and caring for her baby.
Mom has cradled, comforted, cared for and loved a bunch of little (and not so little) humans in her day … me included.
Once you’ve been held by her, you’ll never want to leave her arms.
How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough, is forever enough
How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough
Cause I’m never, never giving you up
Is forever enough
Cause I’m never, never giving you upThe Dixie Chicks
Mom is a natural born storyteller.
She was raised on stories by her mom, aunts and great aunts.
She raised my sister and me on her stories.
She raised my two daughters on her stories, and to this day, she mesmerizes my six grandchildren with her stories … and her songs.
Her stories have now blended into one story.
No more beginning.
No more middle.
No more end.
One story.
One glorious story.
It is the story of life lived to the fullest.
And, if we listen and observe close enough, it will become part of our stories, too.
It is a collection of bits and pieces, wisdom and scraps, insights and mysteries, lessons learned and lessons lost … all floating together, in infinite ways, as if drifting down a stream.
It’s all there for all of us.
All we have to do is bare our souls, jump in, and go with the flow.
Only by immersing ourselves into its depths will we find the meaning.
In all of its glory.
One story.
Our story.
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Life is but a dream.
Welcome! I'm Tom Laughon (Lawn), the primary caregiver for my 97 year old mom, Helen!
I guess you could say my mom taught me the values, mindsets and skill sets to get where I am, and now I am using all I have learned, and continue to learn, to show my gratitude and love for her at this stage in both of our lives.
My mom has sure been my champion, cheerleader, teacher and "primary caregiver" for as long as I have been on this planet. She is an amazing, joyful human!
I invite you to follow our journey ... we would love to have you hop aboard for what promises to be a ride of a lifetime!
Buckle up, and welcome!
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My 91 Year Old Mom 