The Handyman, Part VI

A house is only a home when someone loves it. 

My mother created a home for her family. 

In honor of the Phoenix MS Walk the first weekend of November, I would like to share:

The Handyman, Part VI

After fighting with Mother regarding Roy, my father finally decided to talk to him about the repairs that needed to be done at home. 

When Roy didn’t show up for appointment after appointment, my father stopped by the nurse’s station to find out about this handyman visitor that Mom had.

The nurses shook their heads. 

“We have a handyman on staff and his name isn’t Roy. It’s Jeff. And I don’t think he’s ever met your wife.” 

No one knew a Roy. 

There was no record of a visit.

We knew with MS that at some point Mom’s brain would be affected, 

but this was a shock to all of us. 

You see, she still knew all the stats for the PGA. She knew all the golfer’s names, 

the names of their wives and children, 

which tournaments they’d won and lost and where they’d come in if in the middle, 

not to mention exactly how much money they’d won so far that year. 

How could she remember, and be so clear about all that, and still have an imaginary friend?

The doctor’s reviewed her medication. 

The psychologist came by. 

The psychologist remembered my mother from previous visits where he asked about her health and was surprised by her will to live and her firm belief that MS would be defeated soon. 

This man, who only came to know her as a bedridden woman with no voice, 

was inspired by her faith. 

Miracles occurr everyday, she told him.

No one could find a reason for Roy. 

Yet Roy continued to visit Mom on a regular basis and Mom continued to renovate from her hospital bed. 

Dad humored her. 

And I’d smile when I’d get the letters.

And then on a Saturday morning in March, 

Mom died peacefully.

As we’d known would happen, 

Roy did not attend the memorial services, although we all kept watch for him. 

My father and brothers and I huddled around Mother’s urn along with other family and friends 

- the mother of the three children that visited Mom regularly, 

the man who for years made the wildflower cards and wrote her letters, 

the many staff members who had long since retired or who were able to get the day off, 

the psychologist, 

the nursing home minister

– everyone came by except Roy. 

Roy never appeared.

For anyone interested in sponsoring my walk
here is the link. 
Sponsor Jean's Warriors
it's named after my mother, Jean
May you all be blessed this day.

The Handyman, Part V

In honor of the Phoenix MS Walk the first weekend of November, I would like to share:

The Handyman, Part V

My mother loved her home and her home away from home and discussing them both. So Roy quickly became her favorite visitor. 

As a handyman, he had many of the same ideas and enjoyed talking to her about her planned projects.

By this time MS had taken her voice, so she could only softly whisper and click to communicate. 

For this reason we had given up our telephone conversations and instead our letter writing picked up. 

 I often heard about Roy through the letters my mother sent me. 

Roy, this amazing man who was willing to help her care for her home, seemed to be a regular visitor. Mother, even though in the nursing home, never forgot her other home. 

She often asked my father about things and remembered what needed to be taken care of.   

Now she had someone else she could talk to about the ready-to-leak roof, ready-to-rot back-steps and the way-out-of-date cabinets in the kitchen. 

She planned with Roy an entire makeover of the home where my father still resided. 

Father, of course, was less than enthusiastic. 

First, he was not one to enjoy disruption to his life; second, he was a bit nervous about how they would be able to afford such renovations. 

Mother had the answer: Roy would do the work for free! 

Now my father was even more skeptical. 

But Mother even more insistent.

Every time my father visited her, she’d ask about the house and if he’d called Roy. 

It was hard, if not impossible, to tell her ‘no.’ 

Finally Father caved. 

“Have him come by the house. I’ll talk to him,” Dad said exasperated.

My mother told Roy that her husband had finally come to his senses about the house and Roy could stop by. 

Dad had said Monday would be good. 

Mother made the arrangements and let my father know that Roy would be by Monday morning. Father waited all morning - no Roy. 

He had a good excuse, Mother said, but he could come by the following Thursday - again, no Roy. 

Dad decided to take matters into his own hands.

The Handyman, Part IV

 

In honor of the Phoenix MS Walk the first weekend of November, I would like to share:

The Handyman, Part IV

My mother was a woman of strong opinions. 

She became a confidant of many of the nursing home’s staff. 

They came to her, because she was mentally clear. 

She remembered everything and was always trying to help. 

Meddling? 

Yep. That’s what some would call it, but they came back for more. 

Even after they no longer worked at the home, they came back. Year after year to see her.

One woman worked for two years at the home. 

Soon after she began working there, she decided to bring in her three children and their pets for the residents to see. Bunnies, puppies, birds and kitties, the family loved animals and loved even more to share them. 

The children enjoyed the visits to the Grannies and Grampies. 

Mother was always delighted to see them. 

Each time they came she would have someone take a photo of them all together for her guest books. Each time those children came, they would bring her some art work which would hang in her room until the next visit. 

They were her adopted grandchildren and loved as much as her own. 

For eight years, they visited her twice a year. 

The children always reminding their mother when it was time to see her.

There were also the letter writers. Mother loved to send and receive letters, but unable to move a finger needed a letter writer. 

She had several that cycled through over the years. 

People that would pen a private note to me when they sent my letters so far away. 

People that would call when they were visiting the area where I lived, because after all, we were all family right? 

Mother assured them we were.

And then there was Roy.

Roy began visiting my mother in August of 2008.  

A handyman by trade, he came by the nursing home and they discussed home renovations. 

Mom quickly became enamored with Roy.