Mom had a mild heart attack last night. I don’t know exactly how you have a heart attack when you have an implanted defibrillator, but she did. At least they didn’t take her to the hospital, so I guess it was pretty mild. She’s going to see her cardiologist Monday. We drove up to see her. She always looks frail, frightened and tired when we arrive, but she perked up when I offered her Krispy Kreme donuts. I know, you should not give someone so unhealthy such an unhealthy food, but really, at this point how much harm can it do? And she devoured one whole glazed donut!
At least we got her to eat. She only weighs about 85 lbs now and probably 5″ or 6″ shorter than I. When I first met her 35 years ago, I could look her in the eye. How can someone lose so much height??
She is an enigma. She tells no one what she is thinking. Questions are answered with a minimum of words. And now that her memory is getting bad, I’m afraid her story will never be known. Just as I knew nothing about her husband, or my own mother and dad, for that matter. Isn’t this the stuff that should be handed down to the next generation? The stories of lives, not just dates and names, and addresses. I guess that’s the genealogist in me. I know more about her family than she does, but I don’t know the people. Her parents left Missouri during the Depression (Mom was born in ’29) and they drove the whole family to California where they were migrant farm workers until the end of the Depression. What stories must’ve been lost! Of course, Mom was very young and doesn’t remember much, and apparently her parents didn’t talk about it. She’s the last of her family. She’s outlived a daughter, two husbands, a dog, and all her siblings. It’s hard not to be sad about it.