Living Angel

Saturday, September 18

We’re doing a little better.

This morning when I woke up, Mother was already awake. She had made her bed and was sitting on the potty, a little upset because she had pooped and was having to clean her bottom herself.  “Where were you?!”

Then I took her in and set her down in front of the tray with dentures, glasses, hearing aids. In a moment of clarity, tears filled her eyes, then she said, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” and shook her head for all the words she couldn’t say.

For her Christmas present last year, I created a book for her on my iMac. I went through all her photo albums, from her birth to the end of the Korean War, scanned the most important photos, and imported them into the publication. It's called, "Dorothy Lehmann Thomas, Living Angel." She loved it so much, showed it to everyone who came to see her. We’ve looked through the book twice now, and she remembers the events of her life. But only when we’re looking at it. It’s almost like rote from the times she’s shown the book to others.

She pointed to herself in one photo of four generations. She started babbling about the dress, and I knew what she was saying. "Yes, you picked 100 pounds of cotton, earned $4, and bought the material to make yourself that dress, didn't you?" She nodded, proud of herself all over again.

In the mornings she enjoys sitting out front and looking at the flowers, the cats, the dog, the cars.

My son Slade came by today. She said, “Hi, honey,” instead of “Who are you?”

As we were watching TV in the living room, she kept staring at Oprah. "Do you know her?" she asked me.