A language she never learned
and no one understands
after her son drives her
out to the property where
she believes a house
is being built for her.
She stares at the cows
chewing their cud in the pasture
and must have realized at 91
that she is never getting
out of the closet-size room
in assisted living where she moves
after selling her mobile home
when she is confined
to a wheelchair. The center
had promised to build her
a comfortable cottage.
But the cottages go to couples.
Her husband is long gone.
Dementia, the doctors diagnose.
And her sister, my mother-in law,
a nurse, concurs with the doctors.
Grandma speak English, her grandson
pleads as he visits for the first time.
Mom, stop this nonsense, her daughter
insists but the old lady responds
in German gibberish her family
doesn’t believe even she understands.
Her nephew, my husband thinks otherwise.
She studied Dutch. German is similar.
No one but the nurse taking her vitals
hears her last words: Auf Wiedersehen.
Sharon Waller Knutson has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. She has published 12 poetry books, including the most recent, The Leading Ladies of My Life (Cyberwit 2023) and its sequel, My Grandfather is a Cowboy (Cyberwit 2024). She has published 1,000 poems in more than 60 publications. She is the editor of Storyteller Poetry Review and lives in Arizona.
I love this.
ReplyDeleteThis brought me tears. The poem beautifully and painfully what it's like to be with a loved on whose brain as been picked apart by the vultures of Alzheimer's. This is so similar to my mom, who did speak English, but didn't know recognize much of anything close to the end. She thought she was home when she was in facility for Alzheimer's, who told me to have my dad bring me to visit her (my dad had died a few years before her), the said she didn't have enough money to feed us (she was being fed there), etc. etc. Your husband's aunt staring at the cows. My mother spent her days staring at birds. She thought she was going home when she wasn't. It's a heartbreaking time, and it's hard to understand until you've been there. And you took me there brilliantly. The part about her last words ... so sad. I never heard my mother's last words. Only her last breath. But in my head, I still heard her voice. And it would have been in German. Thank you for this, Sharon. I'm sure it affected many others as well. It's easier to live pain, I think, when you can express it,
ReplyDeleteExcellent poem.
ReplyDelete