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“I’m happy with any color you choose, and I’m okay with your indecisiveness. What worries me iswhyyou’re struggling with this,” he said, brushing a thumb along her jaw.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. He was such a good man. Caring, loving, supportive… He deserved so much more than what she could give him. The words—the truth—were always just there on the tip of her tongue. But, as usual, she swallowed them back. “It’s nothing. I’ll make a decision soon. Lots of decisions.” Including the biggest one she hated to make.

She got out of the car, and Trent took her hand as they entered Rejuvenation. Right now, she had other things to worry about.

Inside, it was a relief to see that the seniors’ home looked the same as always. No fall or Halloween decorations in sight. They didn’t decorate for the seasons or the holidays. They kept the rooms and common areas the same so as not to confuse or hurt the patients who may not be aware of the passing time or seasons.

“Hi, Marla,” she said, approaching the reception desk. The attendant was one of her mother’s regular nurses and had been working with her for the more than two years since she’d moved her mom into the facility. Prior to that, her mother had been living with Whitney and Trent, but when the Alzheimer’s had gotten so severe that her mother had been afraid of them, they’d had no other choice but to do what was best for her. “How are things today?”

Please let one thing go right this week.

The nurse’s expression wasn’t promising. “She’s not having a good day.”

Whitney’s chest tightened. “Did she take her meds?”

Marla shook her head. “She keeps refusing. Whitney, I know you know what that means.”

Her mother would need to be moved to a stricter facility with doctors who had the authority to force her mom to take her medication. Or have an additional nurse assigned just to her mom’s care. Rejuvenation was for seniors with mild illnesses, those that needed a little extra help sometimes. Her mother’s illness was getting worse, and her time at Rejuvenation was limited, unless Whitney could afford the additional costs of individualized care. “I’ll try to talk to her,” she said. She took a deep breath, steadying her emotions, pushing everything else aside.

Days like today were the hardest.

Marla led the way down the hall toward her mother’s room. The sound of a seniors’ fitness class to their left and a bingo game being called in the dining room to their right had Whitney struggling with the sadness desperate to strangle her. This was such a great place for her mother. But trying to get her mom to participate in the activities here was a challenge. Her doctor believed that if she exercised and interacted more with the other seniors, her memory might improve a little, or at least it would slow down the progression of the aggressive disease.

But her mother preferred to be alone. She missed Whitney’s father, and the void in the woman’s heart was upsetting. Whitney missed her dad, too. With him gone five years now and her mother slowly slipping away, she would be alone soon.

She glanced at Trent and squeezed his hand tight, drawing strength from him.

“It will be okay,” he said.

She wished that were true.

Marla knocked on the partially open door. “Lydia, you have visitors.”

“I’m tired,” her mother said. “No visitors today.” Her back was turned to them, her gaze lost somewhere outside her window, at the ocean in the distance. Her hair was matted, and she was wearing the same nightgown and housecoat she’d been wearing when Whitney had visited two days before.

She needed to get here every day.

The staff did their best, but they couldn’t force residents to do things they didn’t want to do. Her mother neededher, and she couldn’t give in to exhaustion at the end of the day or use her own illness as an excuse. Her mom came first.

“These people are really nice. You’ll like them,” Marla said. She turned off the television and the radio and closed the curtains. Eliminating distractions made it easier to communicate and hold her mother’s attention. “Stay as long as you like,” she told them before closing the door.

“Thank you,” Trent said, sitting in the armchair next to the bed.

Whitney approached her mother. “Hi, Lydia. I’m Whitney.” Keeping her voice steady and eyes free of tears was the hardest part. Keeping the mood positive and light was essential not to upset her mom, and it was often the most exhausting part. Seeing her mother like this was torture. She used to be so strong and independent. She’d been a marriage therapist with a successful practice until she’d gotten sick. She’d done yoga every day and had been otherwise healthy. Now, she looked so weak and frail. Lost and alone.

Whitney choked on the lump rising in her throat and swallowed it down. She could break down later. In private.

Her mother looked at her.

Please come back. Please recognize me.

“Whitney. What a lovely name. My husband and I couldn’t have children, but I’d always liked that name.”

She nodded. “Thank you. You and your husband did have a child—you adopted a little girl late in life.” How many times had she said those words? It was important to be honest with her mother, remind her of things, but some days she thought it would be easier on everyone if they pretended to be visitors like Marla said.

A look of confusion appeared in her mom’s dark eyes as she shook her head. “I think you have me confused for someone else, dear,” she said.

Chest aching, Whitney smiled. “Did you want some help getting changed?”

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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