Who Cares What Nansi Thinks?

Mike cashed Mom's stimulus check for her and I picked her up after work on Saturday. As we were wheeling toward the exit, I said, "OK, Mom. Close your eyes and think of the one thing you'd like to eat. No matter what or where, what would you want to eat?" It didn't take her long to say "Good Mexican food."

Easy. I took her to a local chain of restaurants called El Rodeo. I've frequented El Rodeo for about 30 years now, since it was a little hole in the wall owned by a Mexican family. (Remember Bonita?) Now their restaurants are large and elegant. When Mom went in, she said it was like being in Mexico City. There is a lot of exposed brick and stucco. The colors are bright and the decor is just outstanding. Our favorite part was that each chair is different. All are hand carved, some have toucans, some sunflowers, some flamingos, some parrots or sombreros. All a work of art unto themselves.

I told the waiter about having Mom close her eyes and dream of the best food she could get. "When she said 'Good Mexican food', I knew right where to bring her." Well, that's all I needed to say. Mom was queen for a day.

Our waiter catered to her every wish. (and when she figured out he would, she came up with LOTS of wishes!) Unfortunately, Mom's been on such a bland diet that the food seemed hot to her. It wasn't, but she struggled to eat. She was able to eat all the refritos with sausage and cheese and some of her chicken.

We knew we wanted dessert, but Mom was struggling between flan and a pastry filled with cream cheese. She settled on flan and enjoyed every single bite. As we were leaving, Luis, our waiter, brought her an order of refritos with sausage to go and the other dessert that she turned down. He didn't even charge us!

While we were pouring over the menu, Luis lingered nearby to answer any questions Mom might have about the menu. Mom shared with Luis how years ago, she and our pastor's family used to got Matamores every year to see a doctor of arthritis there. Then she told of how our pastor's son started a church in Mexico City and that she and Dad went down every year to work in his church.

At that moment, Mom remembered the day. It would have been her 63rd wedding anniversary with Dad. Apparently they'd spent a lot of their anniversaries in Mexico at Kim's church. Mom was tearful and related to Luis that they had planned on retiring there, "But he left me all alone."

Luis was attentive and seemed genuinely interested in Mom's stories. (We went early and were the only people in the restaurant for a while.) It did Mom good to have a fresh set of ears to hear what she says over and over again.

I got to see Mom through Luis' eyes. What an interesting lady. How funny and witty she is. I saw how she weaves a story and draws you in. I saw how she misses my dad.

Time does not heal all wounds. Sometimes, as time passes, the wound becomes more painful. It wasn't until Mom went into the nursing home that she began to miss my dad so acutely. In the years right after his death, she was a little mad at him for being so unprepared for his own death.

I've often said, "the largest surprise in my dad's life was his death." He was absolutely certain that he would never see death. He thought that he and Enoch would share that commonality. Dad was lead pipe sure that Jesus would come again before he died. I think he deliberately avoided medical help when he knew he was having a heart attack because he was sure whatever was going on would abate and he would live on--or Jesus was coming today.

I always thought Dad was the only one that wanted to retire in Mexico. It looks like Mom is very disappointed that it didn't work out that way.

My day with Mom on Saturday was bitter sweet. We had big plans to go shopping and spending her money. In the end, she made a list of things for me to order for her on the internet. She was exhausted after lunch. It was all I could do to get her back in the car and out again at the nursing home.

Remember me sharing how the Arocept was working so well? It skipped a beat on Saturday. Mom wanted a few dollars, so I gave her two fives and five ones. Any more than that and she loses it. I wasn't back home more than an hour or two when the nursing home called. Mom was in a panic. She was sure I'd given her two twenties and she had lost them. I had paid for our lunch with two twenties. :-( Mom often puts unrelated fragments together to form "the truth".

So for today, I'm missing my parents. Both of them.