Sunset for Mama Viv

It has been nearly a year since I visited the beautiful resort and beach that over the years has become my favorite place on earth. Since finding this perfect spot some thirty years ago, it has become a haven for me to restore my sanity as I write about my life and family. I start to unpack for the my two-week stay this time, and lay my little black book on my favorite chair on the back porch, overlooking the perfect piece of heaven on earth. My sister, Alex, is going to be coming in later, and we plan to have a wonderful vacation, just like we did when we were children. This would be a needed healing time for us and the adversity of the past few years. Also, we were looking forward to celebrating my sixtieth birthday with a lot of fun and sun.

Indeed the past ten years had been emotionally draining on me, but worse for Alex. Our mother, Vivian, had been diagnosed with dementia in the spring of my fiftieth birthday, and we knew our lives would forever change. Mama Viv, as we called her was an eclectic soul. She loved beautiful, vibrant colors, and she was always wearing a matching headband in her silver hair. She had a way about her that always made Alex feel loved and cared for. As for me, Mama Viv loved me but didn’t like me very much. I don’t think she meant to make me feel unloved or uncared for, but I believe I reminded her so much of my abusive father that she just struggled with how to deal with me. My directness didn’t help much either. As the years passed, I learned to be more aware of the things that Mama Viv didn’t like in me, and keeping a journal in my little black book helped me to see things more clearly. As I became more loving toward Mama Viv, she became more loving toward me, particularly after my dad passed away some 18 years ago. Alex and I started including Mama Viv on our trips to our favorite beach, and from that point on Mama Viv was with us on every trip. She particularly enjoyed the "most beautiful sunsets" and she always sang quietly as she watched the sun go down, "it is well, it is well with my soul."

If the last ten years was draining, it did not compare to the past two years alone. I had gone through an unusual amount of little black books during this time just trying to find some sense of normalcy in the chaos that had become mine and Alex's lives. Our lives now revolved around Mama Viv and her condition got progressively worse. Sometimes when she would go somewhere familiar with us, she would suddenly forget who we were and get upset. We started to visit her more often because of her erratic behavior, and scoured the Internet on the topic of "dementia" to try and understand what we were dealing with. On a visit to check on her to make sure she was taking her medication (one of our many visits), we became extremely concerned about her wellbeing after finding nearly a months worth of her medications in a small box stuffed in the back of the drawer on her night stand. This lead to daily checks on Mama Viv, and greater concerns as we realized she was losing some of her cognitive abilities to understand the simplest things. She no longer always recognized us, and at one point, just a month before the decision to put her in a home, she got extremely distraught with me and even became violent, hitting me with her walking stick. She had always been a little feisty but this was beyond the norm for Mama Viv.

It was about two years ago, just before Mama Viv’s ninetieth birthday, that we moved her into the Ocean Springs Rehab Facility. It was at this point the only choice we had because she needed 24-hour care. My sister Alex was devastated and struggled with it but eventually she came to see it was the best decision. We made sure that the facility was close enough to our favorite beach so that we could take her to sit in the sun and enjoy the quiet peace of the medicinal salt air. Alex and I both have our own families and grandchildren that we enjoy and wanted to spend more time with and Mama Viv was pulling us away from that. At this point in time we could no longer care for her because she needed specialized care that we were not emotionally or physically able to provide. We visited her often, took her to visit our beach as much as we could, and with much anxiety witnessed her transition from the colorful, eclectic mother we had known to a shell of her former persona.

She became increasingly obsessed with going back to her childhood home, and wanted to always go see her parents, who had died when she was in the midst of raising us. It was great to be able to spend time with Mama Viv, but it was emotionally overwhelming for Alex and me. We struggled with feelings of guilt and selfishness for not enjoying our visits with her. But there were those rare moments on days we visited her that she seemed almost herself again. As time passed those rare moments became fewer. The last time we checked Mama Viv out for a visit to my house for Thanksgiving to be with our families, she was fine until everyone was gone for the evening and she became confused about where she was. I called Alex, and we quickly packed up her overnight bag and took her back to the Ocean Springs Rehab Facility. It would be our family's last visit with her.

Mama Viv passed away on an unusually warm early December morning. Alex and I held her hand as she slipped the mortal bounds of earth and we held each other and wept. Over the next few weeks we would grieve together and fondly reminisce the life and eccentricities of Mama Viv. It is indeed a great void that she is no longer with us, but we rejoice that we will one day see her again.

As I sit down now looking out over the peaceful ocean, in my favorite chair, I look around the porch, and spot a small package wrapped up with a pretty pink bow on top. I walk over and see there is also a card and I take both back to my chair. The envelope is addressed to me, Alana L. Moore. I open the card and there’s a cashier’s check for $20,000, made out to me! The note says, "You and your sister have had a few tough years. Your mother was always so happy when you brought her here to visit. Everyone, both permanent residents and those who only visited in the winter (snow birds) chipped in to make sure you and Alex could visit for many years to come." Signed the Manager of the Ocean View Resort. "P.S. I hope you enjoy the small supply of little black books. I couldn't help but see over the years that you enjoyed writing in them."

I hear my sister Alex as she arrives, and she drops her bags on the floor and joins me on the porch as we celebrate the best birthday present ever and watch the most beautiful sunset. Alex and I hold each other, taking a collective breath to let out the anxiety and tension of the past ten years. I remark to Alex, "It's the most beautiful sunset for Mama Viv" tears roll down our cheeks as we quietly sing, "It is well, it is well with my soul."