Aging - Chapter I: Moving Home

My husband's aunt died when she was 103. She had dementia in her late 90s sometime. She would talk about wanting to go home so she could be with her family and friends that have gone ahead of her.

My husband saw her every week for years and when we moved, he saw her every other week. Even though she had dementia she always knew him. I loved spending time with her as she loved Twins baseball, reading, and gossiping. She would share her books with me and a bit of gossip.

Even though we had Twins baseball in common, her favorite topic of conversation with me was how much she was looking forward to going home.

My mom was another person that talked about going home. She would say she was okay with death. I didn’t want to hear her say that. She talked about things like needing dialysis for quite a while before she was actually on dialysis.

She would say, “I will be on dialysis like Shirl. I’m not sure I wouldn’t rather go home than do that.” I weighed in on her sticking around.

She would then say, “I am not afraid of going home. I will see your dad and other family.” I want to go home first so I am there when any of you join me. I don’t want to die after any of you. My sister died almost one year after our mom.

My mother died at 75 and didn’t have dementia, although her memory was not as sharp as it once was, she was still pretty sharp.

When three doctors came to see her hours before her death, she told them that she wasn't afraid to die as she knew where she was going. "My daughter will need some help with this though," she added.

My mom’s father and one sister and one great aunt that I knew had dementia. My grandpa lived with my mother for many years after my grandmother died. I remember one time when Grandpa had a stroke and was in the hospital. We were told he may not remember us right away.

My brother, who is ten years younger than me said to Grandpa when he went into his hospital room, “Grandpa, do you remember me.” My grandpa looked at him and said, “Get out of here, you damn fool!” I guess that answered the question of whether he remembered us or not!

He recovered from the stroke, except he didn’t walk after that. He was housebound and my mother cared for him for several more years until she could no longer get him into a wheelchair. Toward the end of his life, his memory was fading, but he still appeared to know us all.

Another of my mother’s sisters, Jackie, had dementia at the end of her life. Auntie Jackie, in the photo above with a granddaughter, was older than my mom by about 6 years. She died after my mom. This photo was taken on Halloween. She was diagnosed with Alzheimers.

The last time I visited her, she knew me, and she said, “Where is your mom?” My aunt was at her funeral. I told her "Yes Auntie, she is home". She was fine with that answer and knew me.

We went on to talk about the past and a few present-day events that she wasn’t too good with. She was okay with her daughter answering for her.

My cousin said, thank you, I never know what to say when she asks.

I told my cousins that my mom had told me, “I am with God, I am home. Pray for your siblings.” I heard this when I was upset and was praying for her one day shortly after she died.

I had my own scare with dementia when my primary internal medicine doctor stated that I may have dementia when I was complaining about memory problems that come and go for me. I told him that if I have dementia I want to know.

He then scheduled a neuropsych. A test can take as long as 4-6 hours. When mine finished early I thought for sure I had dementia. It took forever to get the results and was I relieved when they came back with no markers for dementia or Alzheimers!