Nursing Home Diaries

2007-01-31T12:52:00.000-08:00

Eleanor
October 8, 1914 - November 22, 2006

My mother finally said goodbye. She had/has a magical spirit and loved life even when the days were dark and times were hard. I love you Eleanor.

Today I imagined you sitting on the couch talking to me... remembering those better times.

Why have I been drawing my mom these past five years? Because... well, I didn't know what else to do. Drawing is a form of paying attention that doesn't judge. You stop asking so many questions and just observe.

Still up for fun -- winning at bingo.

Late October, my mom turns inward, towards her true home.

November 22, 8 am -- gone.

2006-10-20T16:17:00.000-07:00

Activities. There is not much spark left in most residents. I think the main pleasure is just being part of the group. The best moments are when one resident reaches out to another.

That's my mom wearing the lei.

2006-10-20T07:44:00.000-07:00

Profiles made for contour line drawing

The complexities of lives are somehow manifest in wrinkles. I now LOVE wrinkles (including my own). And then there is the beauty of bone structure, which age can emphasize.

2006-10-19T19:46:00.000-07:00

Waiting. So much of the day in a nursing home is spent in a state of passive waiting. Ambition and intentions have been replaced with... patience? Resignation is probably more accurate, equal parts dignity and anxiety.

2006-10-19T15:25:00.000-07:00

Scan, print, cut, collage

I have been looking for ways to add color to ink sketches. I've been scanning them and then printing onto different colored papers, cutting out the pieces, and then reassembling. It's kind of tedious, but I like the result -- little miniatures.

2006-10-19T10:58:00.000-07:00

"Lunch comes on a tray"

For the last five years I have been on a journey with my mother. Neither one of us is 'in charge', calling the shots, or setting the itinerary. Neither one of us has ever visited here before. 'Here' is the land of dementia, and the frail elderly. It is not a place you would choose to go. But if you live well into your 80's, and start to approach 90, there is a good chance you will encounter an episode of poor health. One thing leads to another and you loose your independence. Still life goes on...

My mother like most vital people, dreaded this, denied it could happen to her. But it did. As an only child, I have been with her for each faltering step, each level of increased care. There have been surprises good and bad. One of the good surprises involves drawing. I have always kept a sketch book, attended weekly life drawing classes... a nursing home is a wonderful, powerful, place to draw.