Peg & Dick in Wisconsin, 1948

Promises

My mother Peg Wilke died peacefully at home on Sept. 6, 2014.  She made me promise we’d have a goodbye party and nobody be sad. I promised.   I brought the flowers and balloons, A cloud of balloons floating above our heads above the coffee and cookies and punch in the Friendship Hall of the…

pile of purses

Can you take your purse to heaven?

“Where’s my purse?” To avoid answering that question eight or ten times when Mom and I leave the house, I make sure we always take her purse with us. The fear of losing her purse got embedded in her mind so indelibly (by her mother?) that it survives vascular dementia. She passed the same fear…

dog and cat sleeping photo

Moveless

Mom speaks a unique language now. Sometimes I can translate. At ten o’clock last night, I asked if she wanted to get ready for bed. This nightly routine requires her to stand up from her easy chair, use her walker to navigate her way to the bathroom, put on a nightgown, brush her teeth and wash…

Martha.jpg

Martha’s poem

“I watch you and your mother,” my friend Martha said, “and I woke up one day and had to write you this poem. I hope that’s all right. I mean, I’m not a writer.” Writers are meant to see and feel what’s going on and write it down so other people can see and feel what…