Graceful Parenting in Austin

I met Helen a year ago, on Halloween night, when I was trick-or-treating with Noel and Baby Girl. Helen invited us into her house, which was strange. We went inside and Helen offered us apple turnovers from HEB, an odd Halloween food and pretty messy inside a candy bag. I remember how lonely she was that night and how she didn’t want us to leave.

Last week, I went to see Helen. And once again, her house scared me….

No one was home. Helen was always home. There was mail collecting in the mail box. A piece of cloth was covering the window at the top of the door, so I couldn’t see inside. Helen didn’t live here anymore.

You would think, the way I write about Helen on this blog, that I visit her every other day. That isn’t how it is. When I was home with Baby Girl, we went about once a week. Helen didn’t always remember us, but she loved seeing us anyway.

When I went back to work, I made a deal with myself that I wouldn’t become the super busy kind of person who doesn’t visit Helen. I was working flex-time, getting off early in the afternoon and Baby Girl and I kept up with our visits.

Then I got pregnant. I was exhausted and couldn’t get up early enough to work the flex hours, so I worked more regular days. I felt sick a lot of the time and I felt like all I could do was family and work. This came up in my church class last weekend. I feel like I don’t do anything for anybody except me. I’m completely self-involved and in some kind of survival mode. There are the kids, oh my, I love the kids, but besides that there is eating, sleeping, laundry and work. Eating, sleeping, laundry and work. Rinse and repeat.

It had been months since Baby Girl and I visited Helen. As I walked away from her house, I saw a neighbor’s Halloween decorations and realized it had been a year since we met. And I thought I might have a new person to remember on the Day of the Dead.

I called her daughter-in-law and she said Helen is OK, she is in a nursing home now. She started talking like she likes to about how the son is spending the money and the Granddaughter is an alcoholic. I’m not so into these details, so I ask her for the name of the nursing home, so I can visit and the daughter-in-law didn’t know, because she hadn’t been there.

I got the name of the nursing home from Helen’s son. I hope I’m the kind of person who will go visit her soon. Maybe after I finish the laundry. I’ll let you know.