Chapter 4--Poisoning Progresses: Things Fall Apart

Mom and Joyce, 1940











Chapter 4

Fall 2002

I waited another two months, until September 24, 2002, before my husband told me to buy a ticket to visit Mom, but he suggested that I stay only two weeks so that I wouldn't overstay my welcome. I was so eager to go, and I think Mom was getting a little anxious for me to come. She sent me money for a ticket. She told me that her stomach was becoming distended and that she had developed a hernia. She had to use a cane or walker to get around and she was extremely and perpetually tired. Even her voice sounded much weaker.

I flew to Kelowna and Mom's friend, June, who lives in Penticton, met me at the airport. Mom had made those arrangements and I wondered why none of the Ns could meet me. Mom had also asked June if I could stay with her if Mom was put in the hospital in Penticton. That way I could easily visit Mom if she were hospitalized. June readily agreed.

When I saw Mom she looked a little thinner than she did in April. She was walking with a cane. She made one last trip to the basement to play the organ after I first arrived. I mentioned to her that it was nice to hear her play that music. I was going to be the only caregiver (with Gord) until Sonya came towards the end of my two-week stay. I was glad that I could spend some time alone with Mom.

Mom would sit in the kitchen or wherever I was working as we caught up on all the news since we last met. Sometimes she would sit very still for long periods gazing off into space without talking or apparently without hearing anything and that worried me. But she was always aware of what was going on around her. I found that out one day when I mentioned to the care worker, who had asked Mom a question to which she didn't immediately respond, that Mom was "off in her own space." Mom quickly corrected me and said, No, I'm not. I never again assumed that she couldn't hear what was going on even if she didn't speak.

I had already decided that I wouldn't interfere with anything Gord was doing to take care of Mom. Gord continued giving Mom her medications plus making her breakfast and I made sure that I didn't do anything else that he had been doing all summer long before I came. But things began to go wrong anyway. My aunt Ruth was there for about a week when I first came. I observed to her, and to Mom, that Gord was unwilling for me to do anything for Mom, including brushing her false teeth or bringing her a glass of water. Mom thought it was just Gord's childish way of wanting to do everything for her.

But I thought if he kept doing everything in order to prevent my doing anything for Mom, he would wear himself out. He would dash about and fetch water for Mom before I did. Or he would shuffle/run down the hall to brush her plates after i asked her if she wanted them cleaned. Whatever I mentioned that I could do for her, he would make sure he did it before I did. However, he was quite happy to let me cook the meals, clean the house, wash clothes and entertain guests.

I also got reacquainted with the home care personnel and met new home care people.

One morning in the kitchen, I inadvertently stepped in front of Gord while he was getting his breakfast. In a very nasty voice, he said, You, get out of my way! Then because my aunt came into the room just then, he laughed as though it were a joke. I recognize a joke when I hear one and that wasn't it! Things reapidly went downhill from there, as Gord gradually encouraged the build-uo of a toxic environment in the house; in fact, he opened the windows wide to the pestilence that eventually engulfed us all.

In the beginning, Mom would give me hints about how to please Gord. She said all his complaints about me seemed so petty. I told her, Tell me what he says so I can do what he wants. I learned to ask him what he wanted for dinner every day. Usually he would let me make the decision of what to cook. If I was going to do something for Mom, I asked him first if it was okay. I avoided having leftovers in the fridge. I found it hard to remember to ask about everything, however. Mom always complimented me on the meals that I cooked to show Gord that I did do some things well. Mom tried so hard to make things work out but I think that the freight train had already been put in full throttle and was set to crush everything in its path while it rushed on to its destination. I feared what would happen next.

Sometimes as I lay in my bed below their bedroom, I could hear Gord intoning his prayers on behalf of Mom's health. you could hear the beseeching tone of his voice but not the actual words. I felt sorry for him. Was he hoping for another miracle to bring Mom's health back? He was to be pitied.

Then one evening everything fell apart.

Here is the letter I wrote to Gord that explains the traumatic events of the first days of October, 2002. I wrote it when I came back from Edmonton while I considered how to say Goodbye to Mom thinking I would leave shortly for home.

Letter to Gord written mid-October, 2992, but never sent to him. I considered sending this letter to Sonya and/or Alf but did not. It also summarizes Gord's actions towards Mom and me during the first week of October.)

Dear Gord

This is the second letter I've written to you without including "Mom" in the saluation. Do you remember that first letter? It was in praise of you as Mom's husband, providing her with the security and companionship she has sought all her life. I told you I was grateful that you were married to her. Mom always said of you, He is a good provider. I said it was too bad you didn't both meet each other when you were younger.

I still hold by those words, but now I am writing from my heart and with the knowledge that I won't be caring for my mother in the future as you have made it very lcear to me that you do not want me to be a caregiver. I don't know why you don't want me looking after my mother, but I've accepted it and my last visits with Mom were good ones. I had time to say goodbye to her. I thank you for that.

Now, I would like to reprise your memory. When I came to your house on September 24, 2002, I was under the impression that I was to cook meals, do the dishes, vacuum and dust the housle, wash clothes, make meals, bake, entertain guests, and perhps take care of some of Mom's needs.

To spare your feelings, I never brought her breakfast; I never touched her medications; and I still don't understan why you took offence and became extremely upset when I wanted to bring her a glass of water, when I offered to clean her teeth or when I tried to move a small table in her way. You gave me the evil eye when I offered to move that table, then when Mom wondered what had upset me, you suggested I was angry with her! Such presumption! What were you thinking? I was only angry with you, not her, and I said so.

I had just told you the night before this what a good job you were doing taking care of Mom. Remember that? Mom and I both thought you were being a little silly and touchy, but we decided to humour you by asking what you wanted done and by accepting your need to do everything for Mom.

Later, you claimed I was 75 percent responsible for what happened when you blew up. Well, that leaves you 25 percent responsible. Have you thought about your quarter of the responsibility? You pushed me into asking you, "Why do you hate me so much," because it was a look of pure unadulterated hatred that that "evil" eye represented to me. You took great pleasure in scorning me by smiling, no, sneering at my astonished reaction to your incomprehensible actions. Up to that point, I had done nothing, absolutely nothing that should have caused you to be so outraged.

I know, you made excuses, "Well, my hearing aid isn't working" or "I got there before you with the water" or " I automatically wait on Mom for everything and I can't help jumping up to move tables because it's a man's job"!! The table was so small that even a child could move it. That last excuse was what Mom said as a way of trying to make peace between us. Remember, Mom was an unwilling participant in all this chaos. You never once stopped to think of her! Everything was about you, you, you.

Well, if you are still reading this, do you agree with events so far?

What I didn't expect was your response to me (and to Mom also) when I asked, Why do you hate me? I chose those words for maximum impact, as I needed a response. I felt desperate to understand what was happening. You said twice,

--I've got nothing "agin" you, Joyce. I've nothing "agin" you.

You also said,

--I never hold a grudge. I always forget grudges and I'm a friend with everyone. Everybody knows that.

Then when I challenged the truth of those statements, you completely lost your composure. You shouted at me at the top of your lungs, your eyes blazing with fury,

--You are a control freak, Joyce. You don't thing I can take care of Esther properly. You don't get along with any of my kids, especially Shirley and Sonya. She doesn't want to come here when you are here.

I was astonished at his animosity. My reply was that Shirley and I had our differences but we would work them out between ourselves. Mom turned to me and said, I thought you and Sonya were getting along okay. I said, We are, as far as I know.

Mom then asked you,

--Gord, whey do you always put Joyce down to your kids and to other people, especially on the phone? What did she do?

I said,

--Yeah, I'd like to know what you were saying too. Why don't you tell me what I did wrong?

Then you really got angry. You roared at me and at Mom over and over again repeating the same things that you had already said. I thought you would burst a blood vessel in your neck. I reminded you that you held a big grudge against Peggy. You replied with disdain, Oh, her!

What I did next was out of anger and fear. When Mom left the room briefly, I called you a Bastard and gave you the middle finger. (Later while I was talking to Mom on the phone, I referred to your family as Wicked and Evil.)

You said over and over again at the top of your lungs, like a memorized script:--I'm leaving this house forever! You can take care of her by yourself. I'm leaving and never coming back. You can do everything. I'm going. You just do what you want!

Joyce: Don't leave, please.

You: I am leaving forever.

Joyce: I beg you not to go.

You: Don't beg me. I'm leaving tomorrow.

Joyce; Please, don't leave I beg you. For Mom's sake.

You: I'm leaving. Stop begging me. I'm not ever coming back to this house.

Joyce: Don't go.

You: I'm leaving.

Etc., etc.

Finally, exhausted, we all went to bed. I cried for a long time because I had involved Mom in this stupid fracas. I vowed to myself never to put her under such stress again. I walked around the basement room for hours trying to think what I should to to remedy this awful state of affairs.

In the morning, I came upstairs from my bedroom to talk to Mom and you. I was ready to make things right with you. But you still weren't finished reiterating your hatred for me. Everything you said to me was yelled. I don't remember what you said but it sounded much the same as the night before. I just stook there looking bewildered at your angry face and repeating, "okay, okay, okay" as you ranted and raved on for a long time in front of Mom. You certainly didn't feel the need to control yourself. I did say to you that I found out the answer to my question of why you hated me. You said, Oh, you have, have you?

Then you pointed to Mom sitting in her rocking chair watching this turmoil and yelled to her and me, She is my queen. She is the darling of my life. I've put her on a pedestal and she is the most important person in my life. I look after her.

It was Mom's turn to look astonished and bewildered.

You then left the house "forever" with some clothes. I'm sure you can agree with me so far about the evernt of those two days (Oct 1 and 2, 2002).

After you left, Mom said that was the first time she had ever seen you that angry since you quit drinking. Looking back on what I have said--why were you so mad at me? For wanting to look after Mom? For being my Mom's flesh and blood daughter? Why do you hate the very sight of me?

Then, I guess, I committed the heresy for which you seem to condemn me the most. When you came back that afternoon, I went to my room and never came back out again that day. (Sonya arrived later that afternoon, but I never saw her and never wished to see her.)

At 2:30 am, I quietly packed my clothes and crept out of the house with my three suitcases in order to walk to the depot downtown and take the bus to Edmonton. I never even said goodbye to Mom. I did not feel then, and do not feel now, welcome in your house. I said things to you, Gord, out of anger, frustration and hurt. I especially regret implying that you might have pushed Mom when she fell while answering the phone. I'm sorry for that and wish I had never said or thought it. I can't remember if I said this before or after I apologized to you formally by phone.

When I did these things, I had in my mind the image of you dragging Mom by the arm down the hallway to put on her morphine patch the morning before you left. She couldn't move her poor legs fast enough to suit you. If you bullied me, I thought, you just might bully her too.

Before I left the house, I phoned Dr. P and he gave me the home care numbers. I wanted to be sure that the home care people knew that I was leaving and that Mom would be taken care of "until" you came back. I did not suggest that Mom move into any care facility. (However, in retrospect, things would have been so much better if she had been listened to when she insisted on being put into a care facility where everyone could visit her.)

At that time it wasn't a concern to me where Mom was going to be taken care of as long as I could see her.

I phoned Mom every day I was in Edmonton. One time she asked me if I would speak with you and I said, Yes. You Gord, then really laid down the law, saying:

--I am the head of this house. I am the master in my own home. What I say goes! And that means you. This is my house and you will obey the rules of this house. Everything you said was at the top of your voice. I mostly listened while you alternately put me in my place and told me how wonderful you were.

I thought, Doesn't Mom have some say and isn't this her home too?

I agreed to obey all the rules (although I haven't any idea what these rules are).

I agreed that the husband-and-wife relationship is more important than the mother/daughter one. (I was to hear these words again from the nurses looking after Mom and from the nursing counsellor.)

I was told that from now on I was only be be a visitor but I could visit Mom at any time. I was humbled, humiliated and grovelling by the time you ended your call. I apologized meekly and asked for your forgiveness. You then told me that you and Mom had prayed and prayed that I would become a Christian. You said it was Mom's dearest wish. So I even agreed to become a Christian and said I would attend your little church in order to convert if that would please you. To such depths was I pushed.

I said, Gord thank you for forgiving me. You said with great satisfaction, All right then.

I know you will never apologize to me. Your will to dominate is too strong. I don't expect it. A man must save face at all costs.

Since that time, you still act angry with me and I'm not going to live in the house under those conditions. You were good enough to say I could "visit" Mom at any time. For that I am grateful. None of the family has shown the slightest interest in how I feel about all this. I have tried not to colour my role or to make myself look betteer than I am. What I did and how I acted after your initial anger furfaced is difficult to rationalize. But it happened and I acknowledge my part in it.

Gord, you were once kinder towards me. I miss those times and don't understand what caused you to change. If you feel I want to take Mom away from you, that is not so. Death is doing that, not me. Mom is capable of making up her own mind.

After I came back (on October 13), I mentioned to you that I missed your former kindnesses towards me. I was hoping you would be open to discussion, but just saying that made you angry and defensive all over! You began to follow me from room to room to justify everything you had done and I had to scurry out of your way again as you threw out new accusations.

What you will have on your conscience is that you tried to separate a mother from her daughter during the most difficult time in her mother's life. Can't we both share in this process of dying with Mom? Are you so insecure that a daughter can't just be there? I don't seek to have care privileges anymore. I just want to visit my mother while she is dying. How can you ignore such a plea?

Sonya, as far as I know, I have never had cross words with you. Why do you feel so insecure? People around you and Alf have reminded me again and again that Mom is the only mother you have ever known. I agree. But she is also the only mother I have ever had. Isn't there enough love to go around? This business about your being her daughter for 39 years makes me want to remind you that I've been her daughter for 62 years.

Is this a numbers game? Who wins--high numbers or low? Why is there so much competition?

I still think my worst sin is being born of Mom's flesh and blood. That I can't change (and neighter can you, poor thing) but I think I've paid for it over and over again. Alf, you are a big disappointment. You know me well enough to realize that I would have to be mightily provoked to say ugly things to your Dad. You showed no compassion or understanding for me. So be it! You have established a new relationshiop with me. I never had cross words with you either, but pay and pay again I must.

If you had been me, would you have done differently?

So, Gord, I close this letter. You can now live knowing you helped break a daughter's heart and gouged out a small piece of Mom's heart at the same time. I know that separating a mother from her daughter hurts both parties. Alf and Sonya, you must both know this in your hearts. There is enough love from Mom for all of us to share.

(Signed) Joyce

After Gord's temper tantrum that first day, to my never-ending shame and in my consternation, I phoned Shirley for help. I left her a message on her voice mail saying that things weren't going very well. I asked her, no, I pleaded with her, to intervene with her father to calm him down. I received Silence Forever. These people are very tough.

I was heartsick when Gord left the house on that second morning. I remember saying, Bonjour, Monsieur, as he left but I knew it wasn't a good day. I went over to Mom and laid my head on the footstool at her feet and said, I'm so sorry. I just seem to make things worse, no matter what I do. She leaned over and touched my head and said, Joyce, you know how much I love you and you have been the best daughter a mother would want. I love you, too, I said. Then I told her I wished I could bundle her up and take her home with me, or at least take her to an apartment and look after her. I also considered that we could go to her brother's place and I would care for her. I knew she couldn't travel long distances.

She said, We should get a rental car and leave here if he's not coming back. I began to gather up her pills and was ready to start packing her clothes. Then everything seemed insurmountable to me. There would be such flack if Mom wasn't home where Gord expected her to be.

You see, I did respect the marital relationship, and it was to my Mom's detriment.

Where should we go? To Penticton? I asked her.

She said she didn't want to leave her doctor as he was doing everything for her.

I felt totally distraught at Mom having to go through all this nonsense when she was so ill. I couldn't understand how Gord could be so tempestuous with a person that he called "his queen, the woman he put on a pedestal, the love of his life" albeit shouting this at her angrily. When he finished saying that, Mom looked very surprised and hunched her shoulders just as much as to say, What is he talking about? I don't think she ever before heard him say such words. I thought he must be reading too many romance novels!! :-)

I needed help in making decisions. I then phoned Mom's brother, John, and told him what had happened. I phoned the doctor and let him know what had occurred. Because I thought I would be leaving soon, I also asked the doctor for the home care nurse's number so there would be someone there to take care of Mom when I left, if Gord didn't come back before then. I just felt it was best if I went away. I wanted to disappear forever, I felt so forlorn.

I told John on the phone what had happened and felt a little better afterward. John drove over to see us and we talked about what was happening. I told John and Mom that I thought part of the problem was that Gord wanted his "girls" to look after Mom and didn't want me doing it. I thought the money paid out by Mom for her care might be part of the problem. Mom said the problem could also be that I wouldn't kowtow to Shirley.

I stayed at the house that day and looked after Mom and, of course, Gord came back around suppertime. I went down to my room and stayed there. he explained his return to everyone by saying he had to fix the plumbing.

As I've already said in my letter to Gord, I left the house in the early morning hours and trekked down to the bus depot. I remember the smell of fresh rain that had fallen. I felt as though I were as free and light as a bird: it was exhilarating to be leaving, like breathing in pure oxygen as opposed to the noxious fumes of Gord's anger. While I waited for the bus to Edmonton, I went into the bakery and talked to the baker and briefly told him my tale of woe and how hard it was to know what to do. His reply was, "Follow your heart."

Decision Making

The day after I left, John went back to Mom's home to see how she was doing. He found the home care person there and Nurse T. He suggested to the nurse that she ask Mom whether or not she wanted to live in a care facility. Nurse T talked privately with Mom and Mom said she would like to move into a care facility. When Gord came into the house a little later, he immediately decided for Mom, without consulting her, that Mom didn't want to leave the house. He said that she wanted to stay and be cared for in her own home. She was more comfortable there. The Puppeteer felt he could speak for Mom at any time as though she didn't have a voice of her own. He disregarded the fact that Mom was only physically sick; there was nothing wrong with her thinking. The Nurse indicated that whatever the husband wanted was what would happen. It didn't matter what the wife wanted because the husband's wishes would prevail. I cannot comprehend how this could be so!

John advocated strongly for Mom's moving into a facility. He also told me many times that he wasn't doing it for Gord; he wasn't doing it for me, but he was doing it for his sister, Esther. He knew that she wanted to be moved to a facility and tired to make it happen. He spent a lot of time talking with the nurses regarding Mom's attempt to be moved but, after Gord's magisterial pronouncements, no one else believed that she really wanted to leave her home.

I had also talked to Mom about her being in a nursing home or care facility. I said to her that a person had to wait for a bed in such a place (as Nurse S told me) and that there were other issues to deal with, such as becoming incontinent because there weren't enough people to help her on the commode (that had been our experience with my mother-in-law). I understood that the doctor made the final decision to move a patient based on reports from the nurses and the home care people--Mom couldn't just ask to go and be taken right away. Gord had promised me I could visit her at any time. We left it at that. I tried to make the best of a bad situation.

I planned to stay with Heather in Edmonton for a short while. I had lots of time to think about Gord's behaviour. I was wavering about going home to New Brunswick, but I hadn't said a proper goodbye to Mom and I hadn't had my complet two-week visit with her either. I couldn't understand why Gord hadn't waited another four days before bellowing at me because I had planned to leave then anyway. I even had my return ticket. I told him precisely that when he first got upset over my bringing Mom a glass or water. (I closed the TV room door so Mom wouldn't hear and said to Gord, If you don't want me to bring Mom a glass or water, just tell me!! I'm going home in a few days anyway.) It didn't make any difference. He had to attack when he did rather than wait for events to take their natural course. The hunter had stumbled on his quarry and wouldn't be content until he trapped it, skinned it and disposed of it forever.

After a couple of days in Edmonton, I decided to phone Mom's friend and ask her for the names of a couple of people who would rent me a room in Keremeos. I told her it was "unhealthy" for me to stay at Mom's. I didn't explain any further. She phoned me back the next day with a couple of names. I phoned JB, the first person, and asked her if I could rent a room from her. Apparently as soon as she had been asked the question by Mom's friend, she had phoned Gord and told him I was looking for a room to stay in. His reply to her was that under no circumstances was she to rent a room to me. I was to stay at the house as that was my rightful place to be (Rule #1 of Sonya's and Gord's so-called Rules.)

The next day I phoned the second name on the list, VR, and she said that at Bible Study she was told that she shouldn't rent me a room. She said it was too far for me to walk anyway. She made other excuses so I knew I wasn't going to be able to rent from her either. She said my "dad" would take care of providing me with a place to stay. I got a little heated and told her that Gord never was my father and never would be my father. He was only Mom's husband. Both women were members of Mom and Gord's congretation. It was a big disappointment to me that they didn't live up to their religious hype--to succour those in need.

Every day I was in Edmonton I phoned Mom. She was upset that I had left in the middle of the night without even saying Goodbye to her, but I tried to explain to her that I was not welcome in the house. Gord had made that plain. I said I would come back only if she asked me to. Of course, she wanted me to come back, so I decided to ask John if I could stay at his place in Naramata and visit Mom from there. He said it was okay.

Once while I was speaking to Mom on the phone, she said, Wait a minute. I waited, then she explained that she had to wait until Gord left the room before she told me she loved me!! I thought things were getting very weird indeed.

While I was in Edmonton, Gord had a prostate examination and was in the hospital for a few days, so Sonya and Shirley came that week to look after the house and Mom. When I phoned Mom I was never sure whether or not Gord or his children were listening in to the conversation. Sometimes in the middle of a conversation I would say, Okay, Gord, you can get off the phone now!

Mom surprised Gord by visiting him in the hospital in spite of her own illness. She wore her wig and was so proud of herself for having enough energy to visit him. She said he was very surprised to see her in the hospital.

I stayed with my uncle for three days. He gave me his vehicle to drive back and forth fron Naramata to Keremeos.

When I came back to see Mom, I fully intended to stay only until I had completed my planned two-week stay. So I specifically wanted to say Goodbye to her properly before I left. When I came into the house, Gord was rather feisty and itching for a fight. I told him to leave us alone as I was going to say goodbye to Mom. I said to him, Remember, you are solely responsible for separating amother from her daughter, and you will have to live with that the rest of your life. I said that Mom was the only living member of the familyk I grew up in while his children still had siblings and their father. He had no pity. In fact, he seemed rather proud of the fact that he had been so intolerant!

In the bedroom with the door closed, I tried to explain to Mom why I had to leave. I said if I left then, I probably would never come back. She said, If you leave, it will be the most terrible day of my life! It broke my heart to hear her say it. She said most pitifully, Are you going to stay until I die? I said, I don't know. I can't stay for a year or two years. She said, I know that. I said to her, What do you want? She said, What I want I can't have. I knew that meant that Gord wouldn't be listening to Mom's wishes anymore. Then I quietly explained, Okay, I won't leave, but when I do decide to leave, you will be the first person to know. I hoped that reassured her. I knew I would never abandon my mother.

I had thought that if Mom wanted me to go back home to New Brunswick, she would have given me her blessings and said, That's all right, Joyce. I understand why you can't stay. But she didn't say that and never intended to. During my whole stay, I knew that she wanted me to be with her and that she got comfort from my visits. I never doubted that. There were times when I wavered in my decision to stay because sometimes I had the idea that, if I left, things would be quieter for Mom, but then, maybe not.

Mom told me many times, she told my aunt and uncle, she told her friends and anyone else who would listen that she definitely didn't want Sonya taking care of her in her last illness. She didn't want Shirley to take care of her either. B told me that Mom had said exactly that in front of Sonya. Mom wanted me to take care of her and that made good sense to me and everyone else, except the N family. I was more than willing to share the responsibility with others, but unfortunately, andy caregiving i was able to give from then on had to be surreptitious, unless it was approved by Gord.

I felt like such a traitor for not saying unequivocally that I would stay! However, I reiterated that I wouldn't stay at the house under any circumstances. Mom couldn't quite understand why I couldn't stay in her own home with her.

I said I had a room but it certainly wasn't with JB.

She said, Why won't you stay with her; is it because she went right to Gord about your renting a room? I said, Yes.

I left the house and went to a motel located downtown, about 20 minutes walking distance from Mom's home, where I paid the monthly rate on a room that I had reserved. I was ready to stay for quite awhile.

More Decision Making

I spoke to Sonya on the phone about the heated argument Mom and I had with her Dad. I told her that I had apologized but didn't expect he would apologize to me in return. She kind of laughed. I explained about Gord trying to do everything and not letting me even bring Mom a glass or water. I said if he was advocating for Shirley, then she was only succeeding in hurting her dad. Sonya seemed to understand and was even faintly sympathetic. When I mentioned that Mom had indicated she wanted to move to a care facility, Sonya became quite animated and said, She doesn't want to go. I asked her, Mom, are comfortable here? You don't want to go anywhere else do you? With those questions, she elicited the answer she wanted, true enough.

Sonya also told me that she and a relative had to sit down and talk with Shirley because Shirley was acting outof a lot of hatred and becoming emotionally destructive. Sonya didn't explain what the hatred was about, but did say that Shirley's son was very ill with hepatitis C acquired through drug use and was staying at Shirley's house where she could car for him, against her family's wishes. I felt sympathy for Shirley's predicament and said so. I thought our conversation went well.

The first time I saw Sonya at the house after I came back from Edmonton, I didn't feel like participating in her usual bear-hug greeting, so I said, Consider yourself hugged. I guess that wasn't very nice, but I was tired of pretending all was well when it wasn't. She said to me that Gord wanted me to come back to live in the house. My reply was, With everyone still mad at me? Gord was the one who told me I could only be a visitor from now on and I expected him to tell me that I could come back to live in the house. I wondered why Sonya was taking on that role. Later I explained that my own family did not want me to stay in the house because of Gord's outburst. Sonya also told me that every time I came for a visit, they all felt defensive. That didn't make sense to me then.

Unfortunately, I told Sonya that my greatest fear was that Gord wouldn't allow me to ever see Mom again. I made no mention of ever being part of Mom's care giving. I told her I only wanted to be sure that I could visit with Mom. She paid close attention to that. I also tried to reassure her that I thought the Ns were just as much family as Mom, Vernon and I had been. I respected the family unit.

On Thanksgiving Day, a Sunday, Gord had planned to take the family to dinner. Sonya invited me along. Then Gord found out that there was a potluck turkey supper at the church and plans were changed to go there. Mom was to be lifted down the church steps to the basement while she was in the wheelchair. I was asked to go too. I was reluctant but Sonya seemed to be treating my going as a reconciliation, or sorts. So I went. Sonya introduced me to some members of the congregation as her sister. She made a production of giving me a seat right beside Mom. The whole thing was confusing and embarrassing to me. Sonya seemed to be putting on a great show of affection that neither one of us felt.

To my surprise, VR, the woman who didn't want to rent me a room, sat down directly across the table from Mom. I was introduced to her as Mom's daughter. She looked at Mom in amazement, then at me, and said, you certainly look a lot like your Mother! I answered, Yes, and I take that as a compliment. A while later she repeated how much I looked like my mother. I wondered, briefly, what she thought about our previous telephone conversation.

After the meal, one of the women asked me to take home the tub of margarine that Gord had brought to the dinner. I took it back to the table intending to take it home. In a huff, Gord picked it up and put it back in the fridge without letting me fully explain why it was there. I looked at Mom and she shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes as much as to say, What's wrong with him?

Mom and Joyce, 1957









Roles

I wanted to have a place in the family clarified and I asked what my role was. Sonya said to me, You tell us how long you intend to stay, and we'll tell you what your role is.

I countered with, Oh no, you tell me what my role is and I'll tell you how long I intend to stay.

Mom heard me say that and said to me, Of course, how silly, you know what your role is. You're my daughter.

So Sonya said, Your role is to make meals, clean and vacuum the house, wash clothes, and entertain guests. Later, I heard Sonya describe her own role as "looking after Mom and Dad." I never did indicate to any of the Ns how long I planned to stay. I don't think they cared anyway. Sonya once asked me what my plans were. I told her they were to visit Mom three times a day, from nine to eleven in the morning, from three to five in the afternoon and occasionally in the evening. She said, That's not what I meant. I did not want to know what she meant.

Every time I reduced my expectations to match what Gord and Sonya wanted, I left myself vulnerable for even fewer propects. For example, I began as a so-called member of the family, I was reduced to a maid without caregiving possibilities, and then I was treated as a visitor. Strings were being manipulated; puppets were all madly dancing to Sonya's tune.

Another Group Counselling Session

Sonya and I talked about getting counselling to solve the problems we were having. I wanted to talk about a possible care-giving role. I asked her to do the phoning to set up a meeting with a couunsellor provided by the nurses. She did so. I specifically asked Sonya to have our meeting without Mom being present because I didn't want her to be distressed by what was said. I resolved not to cause any more tension that would make Mom suffer. I thought that a meeting to discuss the strain already in the house would help me to understand what was expected of me. I resolved to immediately leave the meeting whenever tension arose rather than risk any more angry scenes. I told John not to be surprised if I left suddenly during the sounselling session.

The meeting was set up for Gord, Mom, John, Alf, Sonya and the counsellor, Dawn, who arrived late. When she saw me she said, You must be the daughter who lives far away. I said, Yes, I am. Right there I thought I was in trouble because Gord and/or Sonya had already laid the relationship groundwork with Dawn. I wasn't even given the opportunity to introduce myself. Then Dawn completely ignored me and went to talk privately with Mom for an hour, then with Mom and Gord together for another hour. I thought we were supposed to go to the church and talk some more without Mom being there, but Mom insisted that she be at all the meetings. When I hear that I thought I would probably leave. I lingered a while longer.

Around noontime, Gord and Mom came out of the bedroom with Dawn. Sonya, Alf, John, and I were sitting at the table finishing lunch. Mom came to the table with Gord solicitously guiding her elbow all the way. Mom sat at the end of the table where there was an available space. Gord's usual place was empty but he insisted on sitting practically on Mom's lap causing others to move and squeeze another chair in. Gord fawned gratuitously over Mom, asking her what she wanted, was the soup too hot, do you want some bread, etc., etc. I just about gagged and got up from the table and left. It was just too much to endure!

Why couldn't I endure it? To my eyes, Gord was trying to impress Dawn with his minute attentions to Mom. Dawn was suitable impressed. I was appalled because Mom had observed many times that Gord usually showed his caring and solicitous self when there was an audience to see him. She told me when they were alone together, she didn't get such attentive treatment. It would have be better if I hand't known how Gord persormed his ministrations.

So I left the table, put my coat and hat on, and went outside. John came to the door to persuade me to stay, but this was more stress than I could handle. I didn't want to say anything to upset anyone. Avoidance of confrontation--that was my strategy. When I told Mom that later, I think it confused her. I think I was the only person at that meeting that understood that one meeting with a counsellor was not going to solve the enormous problems in the house.

The counsellor asked me to phone her. I did. I asked her three questions about Mom's medication, about her falling, and about Gord being able to take care of Mom as time went on. Mom had already fallen three times and Gord was not strong enough to lift her up off the floor. Mom was sporting burises from having fallen in the kitchen (probably when she was preparing food). Dawn had solutions for everything: Mom knew her own limitations (she didn't); Gord could successfully give Mom medications (which he couldn't) and that more home care workers would be added as they were needed (they were, but only gradually over time).

When I asked her about my situaion, she indicated that the marital relationship takes precedence over the mother/daughter relationship. That sounded familiar. She indicated that Gord's wishes are predominant as he is the husband. I started to explain Mom's and my relationhip, but she didn't listen because she already had all the answers. She said Mom liked visitors but was happy when they left. So I threw the phone on the bed and let her talk to herself!

John told me about the rest of the meeting after I left. Alf and Sonya felt I was mainly the problem, especially since I didn't even stay for the meeting that Sonya had organized. They were more concerned for their father's health (he might have a heart attack) than for Mom's. They told Dawn that Gord had been forced to leave the house after he lost his temper. Mom said, Hey now, he left on his own; Joyce didn't make him. At a later date, all three of Gord, Sonya and Alf thought I had committed a major blunder by not being there for the coundellor's meeting. I told them, maybe so, but there was nothing I could do about it after the fact. That picture of Gord fawning obsequiously over Mom remained in my memory every time I thought about that meeting. I don't think I was wrong to leave based on my knowledge of my low tolerance for falseness and fawning! (Sometimes I thought that Gord believed that Mom's dying was really all about him!)

I also visited Nurse S's office to ask about my role in care giving. When I talked to her she began to tell me about the importance of the husband's role, and I said that I had already accepted that the marital relationship took precedence over the mother/daughter relationship. I wanted to know why no one listened to Mom when she told Nurse T that she would like to move to a facility. First Nurse S said that the husband's wishes came first and he wanted Mom to stay in the house. Later she said that there was no available bed in the facility. So I thought, which was it? Nurse S also began to tell me how they established the degree of self-sufficiency for a patient's level of care. She said Mom was in the 50 to 60 percent range. Hospice care rated 30 percent. These numbers meant nothing to me. Who establishes the criteria? Anyway, Mom wasn't a number--she was my mother. I also mentioned to the nurse that my mother had osteoporosis and already had had three falls under Gord's care. I told her I would be really, really upset if she broke a bone on top of everything else going on.

Nurse S, too, had all the answers in favour of Gord and none for me. I told her I wasn't the wicked witch of the East. I just couldn't understand why there seemed to be no room for me to look after my mother in her home. The nurse's concern was for the continuity of professional care, not these conflicts that upset everything. I said, I can go to hell for all you care! I left very upset. I was beginning to understand that there was going to be no remedy for my situation amongst the personnel of the health care establishment. It was not their concern.

Visiting Mom

For a couple of weeks, I visited Mom for about two hours in the morning, a couple of hours in the afternoon and sometimes in the evening. At first I rang the doorbell and said Hello to Gord, visited with Mom and later said Goodbye to Gord. I was not intrusive. It seemed to be an imposition for Gord to come to the door, so I began just tapping lightly on the door and walking into the house. Sometimes I offered to visit Mom in the evening so that Gord could go to church or to Bible study. I did not cook during that time. I did, however, buy some frozen hospital dinners, which were easy to prepare and nutritious. Mom had begun to supplement her diet with Boost, which gave her the vitamins, protein, and minerals that she needed tin her diet. I felt bad about not cooking for her and for not bing able to make sure she ate properly. In fact, it made me crazy to think of her not getting proper meals because of Gord's pigheadedness.

Often during this time when visiting Mom, I would be asked by Sonya and/or Gord to stay the whole afternoon while they went to the States, or visiting, or to town to shop, or to Kelowna. Sometimes I was able to see her for the whole afternoon two or three times a week. These were great times for me. I would do some vacuuming, have nice visits with Mom, make her meals and talk or let her sleep. I knew that Gord was taking advantage of my fervent desisre to be with Mom, but I didn't care. Any extra time with her was fine with me. I always told Gord that it was my pleasure to take care of Mom. Curiously, he didn't seem to mind my caring for Mom when he wanted to gad about.

Mom told me about a visit she had with Alf. He sat beside the bed with his head on her stomach and was quiet for a long time. When he lifted his head to look at her, he had tears in his eyes. I said to Mom, He loves you too. She made no response.

Giving Away Her Prized Possessions

Mom told me that according to her Will, if she died first, everything went to Gord, including her joint bank account. I knew all this and accepted it. What I didn't know was whether or not Mom mentioned any other bequests in her Will such as donations to the church or gifts to friends. I knew that Alf and I would be involved as co-executors only if Gord died first.

In 1995 Mom and Gord drove across Canada and visited us in New Brunswick. At that time Mom brought me all the things that belonged to her that she wanted me to have before she died. She gave me her sterling silverware set, a whole set of good dishes, many ceramic ornaments, some pink depression glass pieces, family pictures and many other thing that she valued highly.

As for anything else in her home that she wanted to keep for now but wanted to eventually give me, she put my name on it. She put other people's names on other objects that she had promised them. For example, the large vase in the living room in front of the bay window has Gay 2002 written in black ink on the bottom. I held the vase up for her while she wrote on the base. She commented to me that the vase would probably never get to its destination but at least we tried.

Mom asked her relatives and friends to take pictures off the wall that they would like to have. Melissah chose three needlework pictures; Jenny and Joe took home a set of dishes and were promised a TV lamp; Alf was to have all the crystal ware. I would go downstairs and pick out new pictures that Mom had painted to replace those taken from the walls upstairs so that there wouldn't be any "naked" walls. Friends and relatives were taking Mom's gifts now whenever she offered them.

Over the years Mom had accumulated quite a few pieces of costume jewelry. She loved to take it out and go through it and tell us the history of each piece. She had sets of matching earrings, necklaces and bracelets. She had necklaces that she made for herself. She matched her jewelry to go with each of her outfits. Even during her most sick days when she had to visit the doctor, she would dress up with jewelry to match and look like the classy lady that she was. She didn't often wear necklaces but she loved to wear bracelets. She charm bracelets, slave bracelets, and watch bracelets of all kinds.

She loved Black Hills Gold and had a few pieces that she wore all the time until the clasp broke on one while she was in the hospital in March. When she had company, either my cousings, or her sister, or her granddaughters, or even her friedns, she would bring the jewelry out. When Mom became very ill, she gave away any pieces that someone indicated she liked. I went through this process a number of times during my visits, both in the winter and fall before she died. Each time I took some of the jewelry she offered. We laughed and joked a lot while looking at what she had collected and it made Mom happy to see us take her beloved jewelry.

One time Mom looked around the house and lamented, His girls are going to get everything here. I wish I could give everything away before I go! i said that she couldn't leave the house bare for Gord. She agreed by saying, I guess not. But she sure wished she could. She tried to get her friend to take the ceramic molds (they didn't come to get them while I was there). She said she wanted Ruth to have one of the sewing machines downstairs. She wanted to give her organ to Gay. She wanted to give the picture in the dining room to Heather. She wanted the tufted moose hair pictures to go to John and Esther. She invited Angie and me to take any material and thread we wanted from her sewing room. She wanted me to have all her art materials and frames. She herself began to collect these for me and I would carry them down to my motel room and store them.

Mom asked me to take objects from the house that were not chosen for anyone else. I took what she offered me until my suitcases were too full to hold more. Then in the month of October, Mom told me that whe wanted to make sure her ceramic pieces went to the people she designated. I delivered the large deer figurines to her friend, Barb. She also wanted me to pack up all the ceramic dolls in the cabinet in the living room to give to Heather. These dolls represented her most challenging and successful handicraft project. Mom had experimented a lot with delicate lace dresses for the dolls and had even used dog hair for their heads. They were beautifully and intricately made. No one else had shown any interest in these ceramic dolls that Mom had made.

Gord obtained boxes and packing material for me. With Mom's help, I started to carefully pack the dolls into their boxes. As I did so, Sonya warned me: Joyce, you better be sure that Heather gets those dolls now! I said, You don't need to worry about that. She kept repeating this as if I hadn't heard her. Finally, she and her Dad sat in the living room making comments while Mom and I carefully packed each doll. Sonya kept telling us we weren't doing it properly, the dolls should be done by an expert, we should get Mailboxes, Etc. to give us a packing pamphlet, that the doll on the chair was going to fall, and so on. I suggested to Gord that maybe Sonya should do the packing herself, but he said Sonya was leaving for home.

Finally, Mom got exasperated and said, Okay, you guys. We can manage. They both left the room and we continued packing in peace.

Each day I would pack 3 or 4 dolls and then carry them to my room downtown. I walked wherever I had to go. Mom said it was a load off her mind to have that taken care of. She was too tired to do it all herself. Sometimes she got confused about what to do with the mahogany cabinet and her kiln. She wanted them packed and delivered to the new owners except that no one had asked for the kiln. She was troubled by her confusion and I tried to set her mind at ease.

One day when she was feeeling a little better and we were alone for the afternoon, after I had finished packing the ceramic dolls for the day, she kept bringing me other things to pack--ornaments, candle holders, trays, thimble sets, bells, etc. Everything she brought to me, I packed carefully into boxes. She was so pleased that I was doing that. I went downstairs and retrieved all the ceramics that she had put my name one, plus a few others. I took some material, lace yard goods and thread that she wanted to give me. I took about half the picture frames from downstairs. She gathered together more frames that she wanted me to have. We packed and packed all afternoon. She was so happy that I packed all the things that she gave me. This memory helped to sustain me after Mom's death.

Heather had told Mom that she liked the painting that was hanging in the dining room. Mom said that I should take down the painting and give it to Heather. One day when no one was around, I took the painting to the basement and put up another one to take its place so that the wall wouldn't be bare. No one even knew it was gone until I mentioned it to Mom. John came to transport the cabinet that housed the ceramic dolls, and I put Heather's painting in the back of the truck with the cabinet. Later Gord got very angry with Mom for my taking the painting away. Mom said to me, I bought all the materials, I painted it, why shouldn't I give it away? That was my question too. I decided to not pay attention to this haranguing as it was Mom's painting and she wanted it to be given to Heather. That much was clear to me.

I asked Mom if I could have the pansy rug that she had hooked and rolled up in her sewing room. She said okay. She suggested that I wash it before taking it to the motel room. I did so and took the damp rug with me to cover the stain on the floor of my bedroom. It was very comforting to have her rug on the floor. I also used large pieces of Mom's yard goods to make curtains for the bathroom, living room and kitchen windows. I hung some of the more picturesque cloth squares on the wall as pictures. When I painted with Mom's acrylic paints, I used the finished paintings to further decorate my motel room. I was surrounded with reminders of Mom. I described my room to her and she looked pleased that I had made my surroundings inviting by using her things.

Alone, Mom and I discussed what we thought was happening with Gord. She said the Norrishes were like dogs that chew on a bone. They keep gnawing and gnawing away until it's devoured. I daid to her, If I bring the painting back, will the gnawing and nattering stop? She said, No. I said: I didn't think so either. I wonder what they will gnaw on next? Maybe we should take our time and keep the painting so they can chew on that and won't have time to start on something else. Mom wasn't sure that would work either. She couldn't understand why Gord had "a burr in his bum" as she put it. Neither could I.

In the meantime, Mom, Sonya and Gord drew up a list of the items in the house with the desinated beneficiary for each item. They showed me the list. My name wasn't on it. Heather's name was mentioned as the recipient of the painting that Mom wanted her to have. Sonya took the list home with her to type up. Gord searched for the list one day and decided that "Joyce must have it." When things went wrong or missing, Joyce was often considered the cause. But he never mentioned any of this to me, only to Mom. I worried about him making her life miserable and bullying her with these repeated complaints. When the list came back, Sonya had added a sentence that said that everything on the list was to be given away only at Gord's discretion. It didn't matter what Mom wanted. Mom was asked to sign the list and she refused. I told her that was the right thing to do. I didn't quite understand the purpose of the list as none of the items concerned me. Gord put his signature on the list. Things were heating up.

So the new rule was put in place. Only with Gord's approval could anything leave the house (Rule #2) Mom couldn't understand that reasoning. Everything she had given away had belonged to her and only her. She either made it out of materials she bought or bought it outright with her own money. Once when I spoke to her about what was going on, I said, They are taking away all your power. To my mind, They referred to both the medical establishment with their patches of morphine, sleeping pills, anxiety pills, gravol suppositories, nebulizers, oxygen masks, diuretics, anti-depressants, blood thinners and all the other medications she took, and the Ns who were taking away her decision-making powers when she was still capable of making decisions. It seemed to me that the doctores practiced a lot on Mom with their medications. The Ns likewise were beginning to practice their newfound sense of control and power. Everybody wanted to be in charge.

How does one go about making it clear to others that Mom could still make her own decisions? No one seemed to hear her. Mom should have been able to make decisions until her very last breath. She was denied this by everyone except, perhaps, the daily home care workers. I tried to find out what she wanted and bent over backwards to do what she wanted. Consequently, doing so got me into even more trouble.

Conversations with Mom about Her Health

As the month of October drew to a close, it was evident that Mom was failing physically a little more each day. Early in the month, she indicated to me that she was in a continal state of depression. She had been depressed for some time. Most of that was because she couldn't do any of her projects because she felt so ill and, of course, the knowledge that death was coming. When we visited the doctor, he gave her something for depression. Mom was tired and wanted to sleep, but even her pills would sometimes fail her. She told me that before she got ill her ideas about dying were totally different from what she was experiencing now. She thought she would sleep most of the time away; instead, she was so tired that she couldn't sleep. I told her that was called being "meta-tired."

Poor Mom! She was denied "sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care;" sleep, "the death of each day's life" and sleep "counterfeiting" death. She wanted to sleep away her death.

She said she thought that Gord really didn't know how sick she was. She talked about how hard it is to die. I once said to her that when I was swimming, I used to think that drowning would be the worst way to die; not being able to breathe was frightening. I also said to her that she would probably face death the same way she did life--with courage and bravery. She looked at me a little skeptically when I said that.

I also told her about my experience with Don's mother's death. I described sitting with her the night she died and reading Ecclesiastes to her and listening to her breathing become slower and slower. I said that his mom had quit eating some time before that and the nurses would feed her the little she would take. Her death was peaceful.

Mom told me that she now understood better the appeal of euthanasia even though her religion and her own natural instincts would not allow her to consider such a step. Mom said to me that she didn't like the slow process of dying; she was hoping for a quick end. It was hard to hear her say such things. I asked her if she discussed these ideas with Gord. She said, No, because shouting so he could hear made such a discussion impossible. So Mom was denied sharing her innermost thoughts with the person closest to her. Would he have wanted to hear them? I don't know. Gord is not an introspective guy.

Mom once sat on the edge of her bed and told me, I'm afraid, Joyce. I'm afraid.

It tore my heart to hear her say it so calmly. I sat closer to her and put my arm around her and said, I know. It is hard. I didn't know how to answer but suggested that when she was afraid, she could think about all the beautiful things in the world. Think of all the flowers you have grown and all the different colours, the red roses, the yellow chrysanthemums, the glads, the petunias. I listed as many flowers and colours as I could think of. Such an inadequate answer! I just said what first came to me. (Later when we painted together, I chose to paint many different coloured flowers. While she was dying in the care facility, I tacked our paintings on the wall opposite the bed so she could see them. I hope she saw them and felt comforted.)

Now I wish I had told her I would be afraid too. Maybe I did, my memory could have tricked me. Now when I think of her saying this, I don't know if she was afraid of dying, or afraid of what was happening in her home to upset her wishes for everyone to get along, or some other fear. Mom's conversation became a matter of short phrases, some of them inexplicable. She didn't have the strength to explain things in detail. I understood and accepted this. Some of her speech was disjointed when she was over-medicated. It took her longer to answer questions or understand complex sentences and ideas. But given enough time and thought, she could sort things out.

She asked me if she was losing her mind. I told her, No, because all she needed was time to consider what she heard. I said the medications slowed down her thinking but as far as I could tell, she knew what was going on and understood everything. I told her that sometimes she didn't answer direct questions but I just assumed some things just weren't important to her anymore so she didn't pay attention to them. All her life Mom had worried about becoming senile like her own mother had been before she died. Yet, I know Mom had her wits about her until the very end of her life, which turned out not to be such a blessing.

Occasionally during October and November, Mom had difficulty talking and carrying on a conversation when the morphine patch was at its strongest. This patch was changed every four days and during two of those days the drug almost incapacitated her. As time went on, Mom talked less but we could carry on a conversation if I spoke so that she needed to answer only Yes or No. By December, Mom was talking in short phrases and had to think awhile before answering. However, she was always aware of those around her. One day, I made the mistake of asking if she knew who I was and she was quick to say, Of course I do. I never asked that again. When Mom was awake, she always knew who was in the room with her.

Once Mom told me that she was having hallucinations. For instance, the clock in the bedroom looked like an Oreo cookie. She said she thought she saw a person sitting in the room with her when no one was there. My aunt told her that the figure might be her guardian angel. Mom really didn't like having hallucinations because they upset her. She also said that she heard images and saw sounds arise from the words in the book she was reading as though it were a television! Another time she explained how it felt to have angina. She said it felt like the TV screen looks when the power begins to fail and the picture breaks up into many uneven squares of different colours that continuously appear and disappear. These were vivid descriptions of what was actually happening inside her body.

She told me how her thinking was being affected by medications and her illness. She said, You know how we all can have two or more ideas in our heads at the same time and still carry on a conversation? I said, Yes. She replied, Well, my ideas are all intertwined and meshed together so that I can't unwind them very fast to be able to think one clear thought.

Once she said to me that it must be hard for me to see her slowly losing her physical and mental strength. I said, No, I could slowly adapt to that. What's hard is the chaos going on in the house. She also said that she noticed how much more affectionate I had become. I said, Better late than never!

As time went on, Mom had occasional accidents. On October 18, 2002, she told me she had urinated before she got to the bathroom. She sat on a towel to regain some bladder control but when she got up, she urinated again. The home care people cleaned up. Gord came into the bedroom as she was telling me this story and he nonchalantly told me, I guess I gave her two water pills too close together. Mom told me Gord had trouble remembering things like the grocery list and she had to help him remember what to put on it.

Mom began to have spells of vomiting and difficulty breathing, especially when lying down. Once she told me about failing to get to the toilet in time and falling on the floor and defecating. She told me that she and Gord cleaned up the mess. I was not happy that he let her help clean up. Each time she had an accident, she would tell me. It was her way of including me in what was happening to her because I wasn't living in the house anymore and she knew I was interested in her care. Once she told me that Sonya had cleaned up after he and hadn't complained about it. I said I was glad that she didn't complain.

Converations with Alf

When I was in Edmonton after Gord lost his temper the first time, Alf tried to phone me to find out "what I had said to make Dad so mad." He couldn't get the unlisted number there and tried later to phone me without success. I knew that Alf was upset about Heather's picture being taken from the house because Gord talked to each of his children about it. I made an appointment to meet Alf in the baker/restaurant downtown to try to explain what was going on at the house with Mom, Gord and me.

We met inside the bakery and Alf sat down, looking steadfastly at the floor! I finally insisted that he should look at me while we were talking. I told him that I wasn't the wicked witch from the East. I couldn't talk to him if he wouldn't look at my face. He looked at me then. The first thing he said to me was, I know my Dad tells lies, but I will stick with him anyway, no matter what. Well, that threw me for a loop but I took it in stride and never responded although I much have lookedf mystified.

When the time came, Alf expected me for pay for his coffee and cinnamon roll and,poor fool that I am, I did.

Alf told me that story about Gord getting angry at him and blaming his moving to Keremeos on his bad relationship with Alf. Alf said, He used that just as an excuse for moving. I replied, Just as Gord is using me for an excuse to be angry.

First I told him how much I appreciated our past relationship--his inviting me to meals at his house and welcoming me as part of his family. I said no one else in the family had done that. I thought we got along very well. He talked about why Shirley and Sonya were upset with me when I visited Mom during the past winter. He said he couldn't remember why they were annoyed. I didn't pursue that.

Then I told Alf that I would do everything in my power to make sure Mom's wishes were carried out while I was there. I asked him to talk to Mom and ask her about what she wanted done with Heather's picture. He said she was probably too sick. But I assured him that she could talk about that. I said she wanted the picture to be given to Heather right now. I encouraged him to talk to Mom to confirm her wishes. Then I said to Alf, I hope you will be my friend just so I can phone you and talk to you when I need to talk to someone. I have never been so lonely as I am now living in a room by myself. Will you be my friend? His reply: absolute silence! These are very very tough people.

I told him that I was allowed to visit Mom but not take care of her. He said, You're a visitor, just like me. I thought not.

I asked about Mom's organ and Alf said he thought it shouldn't be taken from the house until Gord said so even though it belonged to Mom. Mom had bought it and was the only one in the house who played it. He said the organ would be given away to Gay when Gord decided it should be. I said, If you believe that, then I have a bridge I will sell you!! Then Alf launched into all the problems he was having with lawyers, his divorce, the kids not paying attention to him, his mother-in-law's illness, and so on. The discussion about Mom was over. We left the bakery and went our separate ways. I knew that he didn't want anything more to do with me. It was his choice.

Two days later when I was talking to Mom she told me about a phone call she got from Alf. She said he had phoned and asked about the painting and she had told him that she wanted Heather to have it right away. Alf talked to Mom until he badgered and bullied her into agreeing that it would be best if the picture stayed in the house until Gord decided to give it away. Mom said it made her sad and distressed that Alf would not see her point of view. Mom said she also asked Alf to be supportive of me because I had no one else to help me. Alf's reply: You have another daughter, you know. (The picture remains in Gord's possession. He has moved from the house in Keremeos. Maybe he threw the picture in the garbage. It wouldn't surpise me.)

That pretty much sums up Alf's stance towards me in the family. Later that week when Alf visited Mom and Gord, I sat in the living room to visit with them as well. I sat slightly behind Gord so he couldn't see my face, but I had a face-on view with Alf. He spoke to Gord and me for about an hour and never once lifted his eyes so that they met mine. I chuckled at this reluctance to look me in the eye. Gord occasionally suffered from the same malady. Maybe it's genetic. Alf visited the house one more time in mid-November with his new girlfriend but still couldn't make eye contact with me. The last sentence I said to him then was, How's every little thing? Alf never looked into my eyes ever again. I excused myself and said Goodbye to him and left the house. I never spoke to Alf again.

Sonya's Big Blowup

Ruth decided to visit Mom for a week to help her out with cooking and cleaning. Sonya began phoning to obtain more help for Gord around the yard and house. First she found out that she couldn't get free yard maintenance from veteran's affairs. Then, Sonya wanted to know what my plans were because more home care was needed for Mom. I said to go ahead and get more homecare. It was all right with me. I had no intention of moving back into the house and that seemed to be the criteria under which I could do any caregiving myself. On Monday, November 4, 2002, Mom, Ruth and I were in the living room and we could hear Sonya on the phone talking to the nurses about increasing the hours of the home support workers. Gord was in the kitchen with Sonya.

Sonya then began speaking very loudly so that we could hear her in the living room. Apparently, the person on the other end of the phone, Nurse B I think, had asked about my helping out as she knew I was there for that purpose. Sonya said that I had decided I was only a visitor and wouldn't live in the house and help out. As she was talking, I walked into the kitchen and said into the mouthpiece of the phone, Don't speak for me, Sonya. Then she became really irate and said into the phone that she was going to get a restraining order to keep me out of the house and if that wouldn't work she would have the RCMP come and remove me from the house permanently.

We were astounded at this news. I went back into the living room.

Mom said, What did she say? We told her. She said, That is ridiculous. It doesn't make any sense. Get a restraining order!! Imagine getting the police!! Ridiculous!

Mom was appalled that Sonya had even made such a suggestion. Ruth and I were astounded too. Then Sonya and Gord joined us in the living room. Gord was adamant about my leaving and not coming back to see Mom. He yelled, Go away for two months and then come back (Rule #3). Mom, trying to keep the peace, said to me, Maybe you could go away for awhile. I looked at Gord and said, You promised me that I could visit Mom at any time. You promised me that. He said that he had invited me to stay in the house and I didn't want to. I said, You didn't invite me back. Sonya did. I said you want me to go away and return and everything would be the same as it is now? Gord said, Yes, it didn't sound like a good thing to me. I would have to struggle all over again to see Mom.

Then Mom started to talk to Sonya about her telephone conversation. She said she was tired of Sonya trying to control everything when she visited the family. Sonya talked on the phone for hours at a time. She picked up the phone when Mom was talking to her doctor about her medications. Sonya took over the phone conversation as if it were meant for her. When the doctor came to the house she introduced herself and made herself the most prominent person there. Mom may have said more, but I can't remember what.

Sonya got very angry and turned toward Mom and let her have the full force of her anger. She said she had to know what was happiening with Mom's health when the doctor phoned. Sonya told Mom she never talked on the phone for hours and hours. Mom must have her confused with Shirley. Mom turned to Gord to ask if Sonya talked on the phone all the time. Gord said, Yes. Sonya talked about a meeting where things had been decided on and Mom said she couldn't remember any meeting where things had been decided on and Mom said she couldn't remember any meeting where decisions had been made. Sonya then raged away about Mom's memory not being good. She repeated herself many times about how wrong Mom was to accuse her of taking control of family affairs and about how bad Mom's memory was.

On and on and on she went. I can't remember everything she said because I was looking at Mom and thinking how unfair it was to rasie such a ruckus when she was feeling so ill. No one noticed the effect of this disturbance on her, except Ruth and me. She sait erect and regal, maintaining her composure and looking very sick. She was too ill to take part in any argument. Ruth and I were too sick at heart to do anything but stare in astonishment at the spectacle being played out before us. Sonya and Gord looked manical.

Then Sonya turned and raged at me for having the nerve to speak in my own defence while she was castigating me on the phone. She was livid because I had spoken into the phone while she was on it. She went on and on. Finally, Gord told Sonya to shut up. Surprisingly, she did. But Gord didn't stop the commotion. No, Gord continued the raging. He pointed at me and said, She is the cause of all the problems. I want her to go. I said, You can't make me go, Gord. He agreed with that. He said, I want her (pointing his finger at me) out of here! He claimed that my being in the house visiting Mom made him tired. He was losing weight too. he was upset that I didn't do anything when I visited Mom (by that he meant cook for him, I guess.)

Mom put in a few good words for me, namely, that I was the only one that was really trying to take care of her welfare. She suggested that Gord should apologize to me as I had apologized to him. He admitted that he had lost his temper in the incident where he left the house. It was no apology. I felt so bad dor Mom that I ran over to her and knelt by her and said, I'm so sorry all this is happening. I think you are so courageous to say what you did. Sonya looked pure daggers of hatred at my back. I could feel them. She said something like, Look, she's only pretending. The rant against me continued.

Mom and Joyce, 1967

Sonya said, Yes, look at little Miss Perfect over there. She came over to me and in front of my face said to me, Wipe that smirk off your face! Mom said, Joyce, you had better get another look. I wiped my hand down my face and changed my expression.

What can you do when people blow up in such an unnatural way? Ruth tried to make some sense of this chaos. She asked Gord in what way I was to blame for his being tired and losing weight. He looked sheepish. She told him that I vacuumed when I was here alone with Mom. I don't remember his answer. I didn't do or say anything because I didn't know how I could help things when I seemed to be the center of all the N's distaste. The only way I could make them happy was to leave the province. I wasn't about to do that. But I apologized to everyone before I left the house! I apologized for my being the centre of the controversy.

On reflection, that was the first time I had ever seen Sonya and Gord in full fighting trim. Mom must have seen it many times before. I was totally astounded and tongue-tied. Neither of them even considered holding back for the sake of Mom who was too ill to participate. Neither of them had any regard for her. Both were so centred on what they wanted (Sonya to be in full control of everything and Gord to fulfill Sonya's wishes because they matched his own desire that I leave) that they had exactly no regard for another person--not even one who is going to be dead in a short while!!! That had to be the epitome of stupidity and self-centredness on their part.

Ruth and I had already planned to eat lunch at a restaurant downtown so we left to do so. We talked about what was at the heart of all that anger. Certainly jealousy must have played a big part. I related to Ruth how astonished I was at Sonya's full-blown hatred for me. She had never indicated this before now, but I always halfway suspected she might not like me.

When we came back from having lunch, we found out that Nurse B had been there talking about the additional hours of home care. Sonya indicated that the nurse had left a note for me. This is what the (unsigned) note said:

Do you mind visiting in the morning between 10 am and noon.

Ester (sic) is at her best and enjoys visiting at this time

and this works best with our Home Support Schedule.

How unkind that note was to me!

Mom mentioned to me that maybe she had agreed to something that she shouldn't have. So I guess she had agreed to the two-hour visiting rule meant for me (Rule #4). I wasn't really surprised as she had told me some time before that she couldn't stand up to Gord anymore. She was too sick. She would do whatever he wanted. But even if the nurses had wanted to know what she desired, I don't think Mom would have had the strength to go against Gord and Sonya's wishes. After all, Gord had complete control over everything concerning Mom. I knew that Mom had capitulated and respected her choices for the rest of the time she was alive. She was too sick to make her wishes known, if anyone (besides Mom's sister, brother and daughter) had bothered to find out what her wishes really were.

I said to Mom teasingly, Youn be sure to be awake during those two hours wo we can have a good visit. She smiled assent.

The next day I entered the house with much trepidation. Sonya immediately apologized to me for what had happened the day before. Then Ruth talked to Mom and Gord about a compromise. The compromise was that I would only come the two hours allotted me by Gord and the Nurse and I would use that time to cook for Gord. I asked Gord to explicitly tell me what he wanted me to do so I would do the right thing. He started to tell me that the freezer downstairs was full of stuff and needed a good cleaning out. I said, Wait a minute now.

Before Gord agreed to this plan, he said he had to consult with his children! Ruth suggested he didn't need to do that, but he insisted. He kept saying, This has just got to end. It's got to stop. There has to be an end to this, and so on.

I started to say that I would be happy to share the work with Shirley and Sonya if that was what Gord wanted. Sonya came into the room while we were discussing this compromise and heard me say that. She said that Shirley's son was dying and she wouldn't be able to come to take care of Mom. That was out of the question.

I said to Sonya that if we were supposed to be sisters, why was it that I only got two hours visiting time with Mom and she got to have 24 hours whenever she came? Sonya only came to visit about every second week and each time stayed for about ten days. Well, she reasoned, only people who lived in the house had full visiting privileges (Rule #5). Sonya started to get angry again and said that everyone treated her as a stepdaughter rather than a real daughter, as if she were second-class. I said, That didn't come from me. Mom and Ruth both said no one ever called her a stepdaughter. (Shirley called herself a stepdaughter and Sonya once wondered what that made her. I couldn't answer that.) Mom said, Well, blood is thicker than water. Everyone should realize that a natural daughter is special and important. I thought to myself, perhaps, Mom, you shouldn't be saying that right now. I don't think anyone heard her anyway as everyone was talking at the same time right then.

I agreed to cook for Gord because I knew Sonya was going back home in a day or two.

Then I sat down in the living room alone where Sonya soon joined me. The first thing she said to me was that I had quite the blowup yesterday. I said, Sorry, it wasn't my blowup; it was yours!! She said, Yes, but you would have argued if your anunt hadn't been there. I said I didn't like tension and I walk away from it because it is so stressful. I can't handle stress, I explained. Sonya continued ragging me again about talking into the telephone while she was on it. I asked her if she thought it made sense that I go home for two months when Mom was so sick. She said, No. I told her I wouldn't stay in the house because my husband suggested fI shouldn't and because I was afraid of Gord. I said he would have to treat me at least as well as he did her if I were to come back. She said she couldn't do anything about that.

Then she said something that sent chills up and down my spine. She said, "When you turn away and don't fight back, I feel like running after you and pounding you into the ground." I guess that was a pretty clear message to me--if I had had any false notions that either Sonya or Gord wished me anything but harm, they were dispelled.

Before Sonya left for home that day she told her Dad in front of me, "I hope you know that I did all I could to help you out. I tried hard to do everthing I could." Gord said, Yes, I know you did. Later Gord bragged to a friend about Sonya giving such good care to Mom.

The next day when I came to visit Mom, I expected Gord to tell me what his decision was regarding cooking. I helped Mom fold some clean clothes in the TV room. Gord told me that Nurse S had left me a message to phone her. I phoned the nurse and she told me that they were toing to add additional home care hours for Mom. She wanted to know what I was going to do as they didn't want to cancel the home care based on what I was going to do. I said I don't have any authority to either ask for anything or cancel anything. She kept repeating the question. I wasn't about to tell her anything because I didn't have a clue what she wanted me to say. I ended up by repeating that I had absolutely no authority to do anything about the home care situaion one way or the other. I must have said it five times before she finally hung up. Did she want me to say I would to the home care? The whole thing felt like a trap.

I went back to the TV room where Mom and Gord were and repeated what I had said to the nurse. I added that they must have been thinking of Sonya because I didn't have any authority over the care-giving decisions. Gord said No, it was for you. I was puzzled. Then he asked, Did the nurse tell you about cooking? Now I was really puzzled. Gord said, She should have told you that you were to do the cooking at noon (Rule #6). Well, well, well. Gord cannot talk to me no matter what. He was an enigma to me. He couldn't just say, I talked to the kids and they agreed that you could cook.

I went to the kitchen and started cooking dinner for Mom, Gord and me. So I was the cook-in-good-standing again. I hummed as I peeled the potatoes and Mom joined me by sitting in the kitchen for awhile.

Gord was given and extra three hours of home care support on Tuesdays so that he could go to town. The home care worker came during that time, and I took that opportunity to work in the yard, to take down the hanging plants from the front of the house and to store them down in the basement. I planned to overwinter them for her. But later, because of what happened, I lost heart in keeping them alive and let them die. I decided they could die as Mom was going to.

Mom Paints!

I usually tried to pin curl Mom's hair after the home care people had washed it. She loved to have people comb, curl and fuss with her hair. It was very relaxing for her. These times became so important to both of us.

I remembered that Mom had said to me that we should do some painting. She seemed very alert on November 10, a Sunday, so I brought up her acrylic paints, found sojme pictures and paper and set up all the painting materials on the dining room table with Mom's help. I found her favourite brushes in the bathroom and brought them out. I searched through her stash of saved pictures downstairs and we each picked a picture to paint. We had a grand old time painting.

Mom hadn't painted any pictures since the previous fall after she had her bowel surgery. Mom chose to paint a landscape from an old birthday card. (She saved all her favourite cards for painting ideas. Sometimes she would send me a birthday card and then ask for it back so she could do a painting from it!) She showed me how the fan brush worked so well when she was painting her evergreen trees. She said her shakiness helped her paint the uneven strokes better. The next day Mom slept all morning so when the home care woman came to put her to bed early in the afternoon (the new hours) after giving her the nebulizer, Mom wasn't tired. I went into the bedroom after the home care person left and Mom said she didn't want to be just lying there. She wanted to get up to paint. So she got up and we painted. Painting together was so affirming. We had a wonderful time together all afternoon talking and doing our paintings. It was a precious time for both of us.

When Gord saw how much Mom and I were enjoying ourselves, he gave me permission not only to cook dinner but also to come in the afternoons so Mom and I could paint together (Rule #7). An unexpected kindness from Gord which, I suspect, really came from a suggestion by Mom. I pushed the limits of my allotted visiting time. I came earlier in the mornings to start cooking the noon meal. Sometimes I came in the afternoons when Gord was sleeping and visited with Mom. I don't think he even knew I was there sometimes. I broke those visiting rules as often as I could. However, I warned Mom that when Sonya came to visit from now on, I would make myself scarce. She understood why. I began to dread seeing a blue Hyundai sitting in Mom's driveway--the sign that Sonya was back.

But on the second day of painting, Mom and I sat in this little bubble of pure joy, painting, talking about colours, about brushes, just enjoying being together. It was probably the last time we had a sustained feeling of enjoyment together, without tension or stress. I said to Mom that when we paint we use the right side of our brains, the artistic side. It gives the left side of the brain, where reasoning resides, a little rest. Maybe, I said, it helped her to forget for a little while how tired she felt and how sick she was. We laughed when Mom said she was no "Picashio" but she enjoyed painting as much as he. I said, You got his name right. He made lots of cashio! We chuckled over that together as we cleaned up after that wonderful painting session.

Mom and Joyce, 1985