Paying It Forward


Just when I think this blog is over, something comes up that I feel I ought to include just in case.

Yesterday, I drove to the nursing home where Mom died and donated her shower chair, walker, and the wheelchair we bought to take her on walks on the Airline Trail. A lot of the patients who come to that facility don’t have insurance, and these items might be something they could use.

I was okay dragging it all up from the basement. I was okay putting it into the car. (That wheelchair was a bitch to get in and out.) I was okay unloading it at the nursing home, piling the chair and walker into the seat of the wheelchair and rolling everything up to the entrance. I was okay opening the front door.

But when I stepped inside, the walls came crashing down. She was everywhere. Not in a bad way, understand, but in a too-soon sort of way. I can’t really explain it except to say that I knew I’d be better off not to loiter, to drop things off and scoot. So I went to the PT Department, not even sparing a glance for the double doors which lead to the unit where my mother lived and died, and left them there. I stopped in briefly to visit with the Social Worker who’d been so helpful for all those months, but I couldn’t stay. Could, in fact, barely talk.

But I’m glad I went. Those things will help someone who comes next, maybe even someone who is suffering from the same debilitating disease as Mom. It seems like a good way to honor her memory.

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About Melissa Crandall

A million years ago--round-about the first Ice Age--I cut my writing teeth on fanzines and science fiction media tie-in novels. I'm happy to say that I've since branched out to include fantasy, horror, essays, and narrative nonfiction. This site will keep you up-to-date on my adventures in writing. I live in Connecticut with my husband--who frequently wonders what he got himself into by marrying a writer--two cats named Tuna and Gypsy, and a semi-neurotic Australian shepherd named Holly.
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