Yesterday was my first day back at work after moving my mom. I called her in the afternoon to see how she was doing. I asked if she was having a good day. “Oh yes!” she replied. “I mean, we’re just sitting around watching TV, but it’s with a group of friends.”
I stopped by after dinner to visit. She was watching TV with the group and showed me that she had received a card from a friend and a letter from her cousin in Michigan. I told her that I was having her newspapers forwarded, so she should have some new papers to read soon too.
“I’m going to be here for a while, aren’t I?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said. “But you like it here, right?”
“Yes, I do.” After a thoughtful pause, she added, “It’s better than living alone, actually.”
This is exactly what I’d hoped for, that she would prefer the company of a group home to being alone in her room all day. Before I left, we talked a little more about the nice home she lives in now. “What makes this place special,” she said, “is their attitude. It’s a very caring place.” I couldn’t agree more.
I feel such a profound sense of relief, knowing that she is not only safe but also happy in her new home. The weight of worry that has been grinding me down for months has been lifted, and I feel so lighthearted I could almost fly.