My brother Ron had just given a sprig of lilac to Mom for her enjoyment, as she cannot see. Seated in her wheelchair, she fumbled to smell the leafy side and I adjusted in her frail hands the blossom in order that she enjoy the familiar Spring perfume, as we had enjoyed for 50 years when she still had the house down in Pavilion. Every year that warm odor filled our home with its unique fragrance.
Advanced Macular Degeneration is a horrible affliction, robbing you of most of your vision. You can’t make out the face of your loved ones, nor the food on your plate. You cannot read at this stage, nor can you enjoy some TV or craftwork to pass the time. But the adjustment has been very gradual, over twenty-five years or so, and like many of her ailments at age 100, Mom accepts each new challenge without bitterness.
Yet surprisingly she can sometimes make out quick movements such as a squirrel at action, off in the side of her field of remaining vision. Or a robin hopping on the grass, without color but still recognizable. This afternoon, as we were serenely enjoying the warmth of sunlight on our faces in the park behind her full-care residence, Mom suddenly, without looking up, exclaimed “I think I see a cloud!”
Just like Mom, I couldn’t help feeling the Gratitude.