A few days ago, when it became clear that my mother’s time with us was coming to an end, I realized that I had no photos of her by herself. Her life had been so intertwined with that of my father, her husband of nearly 62 years, that most photos I had featured both of them together, or otherwise the two of them and some configuration of my brothers and I.
My mother’s dementia was such that when my father died last April, she didn’t seem completely aware of what had happened, or even where she was. She was hospitalized due to severe hydration, but recovered quickly, and enjoyed 18 months of relatively good health until earlier this week.
When we spoke to her back then, she expressed some confusion about my father’s whereabouts, but before we could figure out what to say in reply, she added “I think he’s in the room next door.” I couldn’t have said it better myself.
Gladys Isabel Mena (Fairchild): 1/24/1932 – 10/23/2021