Mom Should Wear Her Sweater

Last week was cold. Here in Southern Maine we experienced our lowest recorded temperatures in six years. When I met my parents at a local diner for lunch last Thursday it was windy and bone chillingly cold. Dad had his sweater on but under her coat my Mom was wearing only a short-sleeved shirt.  As I took her arm to help out of the car and into the restaurant, I asked where her gloves were. She told me they were in her coat pocket but she didn’t need them. She said she was fine.
Fine is, of course, a relative term. It was chillier then usual inside as we sat in the booth. The rest of us removed our coats and hung them up on hooks. Mom slipped her arms out of hers but pulled it loosely around her shoulders.

“Are you cold, Mom?”

 “No, I’m fine.”

And, you know, she was.  She was fine. We had a nice lunch and no harm whatsoever resulted from the lapse.  It just made me incredibly sad to realize that she is no longer aware enough to take note of and plan for the weather.   I spoke to my father about how Mom should wear her sweater when it’s so cold. Of course, he knows and he tries. He does remind her to dress more appropriately, to wear her sweater, to wear a warmer coat, but she just won’t. She says she’s fine.

 My mother’s memory began to fail several years ago now. Damn, but even as I type those words I feel like a liar. A user of euphemisms. An avoider of harsh truths.  What has been happening to my mother goes far beyond a little forgetfulness.  It’s insidious. It’s relentless. And it’s getting worse. Yet, through it all she’s been fine. She’s fairly happy and she constantly reminds us all how lucky we are.

It’s funny but the more my Mom slips away from me, the more I remember the things she always told me, those little life lessons she taught me. One thing she held strongly to and tried to instill in me was what I like to call suburban stoicism. No matter what life throws at you, keep your head held high and don’t complain. It was her own  version of “Never let them see you sweat” and it was imperative. It was the right thing to do. I guess, it still is.
 So, please understand I’m not complaining. We’re all fine here. I just wish it would warm up or that Mom would wear her sweater.