The Gardens at Newfield House

"Bob, I can't wait to hear what your father will say if he heard you right now? A young woman doesn't go traipsing around the world to meet someone you don't even know?  I'm going to talk with him tonight."

"Mom, how are you going to talk to Dad tonight?  He's dead.  Unless you have some way of communicating with the dead, I don't....."

"He's dead, Bob?  When did that happen?  I didn't know your father died."

"Mom, he died February 16, 1978, thirty years ago."

"NOOO, that long ago?  What did he die of?  Did he have a nice funeral?"

"Mom, he died from cancer...lung cancer.   You gave him a great funeral.  The church was packed...everybody came."

"Cancer?  He died of cancer?  I always told him he shouldn't smoke.  He had a nice funeral...oh, that's nice.  I just don't remember little things like this.  Fran, are you married?"

The conversation continued with questions and answers that have been repeated many times over the last three or four years.  Fran and I were visiting Mom at the Newfield House, the Nursing Home Mom entered six weeks ago.  As many on Gather knows, Mom suffers from alzheimer's, a dreaded disease that steals one's memories.

Fran and I had arrived at Newfield together around ten o'clock.  After getting Mom dressed for the day, we had gone out into the Great Room for coffee and donuts.  The Staff at Newfield invited us to share Sunday Dinner with Mom at 12.  "She eats so much better when you girls are here", said Angelina, one of the staff members quietly said to us.  "She takes her pills too without protest.  Sometimes she accuses us of overdosing her."

As we waited for the noontime meal, Fran took a book off the shelf about Frank Sinatra and we all looked at the pictures and commented on little snippets of information about the mobster singer.  "You know your father was as handsome as Sinatra.  I think that's why I fell in love with him."  Mom continued talking about Dad in a wistful way...all memories of the fights, the drinking, the womanizing forgotten.  It's amazing how the mind can block out negative memories.
















"Bob, are you still at Regis?'

"No, Mom.  I graduated from Regis 40 years ago.  I'm a teacher now."

"Oh, yes, my three girls are teachers."

"Mom, let's go in your living room, I have a video that Lena made of my schoolchildren.  We have enough time to watch that before dinner."

After the video which she thoroughly enjoyed for the third time, we went to the Dining room and had a delicious Sunday meal of pork roast, potatoes, salad, and green beans.  Coffee ice cream was for desert.  We sat with Bunny, a 101 year old former high school English teacher.  Although physically frail, Bunny still has all her faculties.  I couldn't help but wish Mom had been able to keep her memories as Bunny has.

Then I asked Angelina if we could borrow a wheelchair for Mom and take her out in the gardens.  Since Mom has been at Newfield she hasn't been outside for fear we couldn't get her back inside once she tasted freedom.  Angelina consulted with the head nurse on Mom's wing and gave us a thumbs-up.  Mom usually gets around with a walker inside the Home but I was afraid the stroll would be too much for her so we got her belted into the wheelchair...for two reasons, safety and so she couldn't run away from us.  You have to remember this was her first outing.  As soon as we went through the glass doors to the outside, Mom could feel the soft wind on her face.  "Ohhhhhh...this is so wonderful girls....ohhhhhh."


Newfield House has extensive gardens on the side and in back of the main building.













As we headed over to the fountain, Mom looked at me and said questioningly, "Bob, did you ever find someone to marry?  I always worried that you were too independent."

"Ya, Mom, I got married...I'm married to Papa.  Remember, I met him in Alaska and we came home for the wedding."

"Did you have any kids?"

"Yeah, three...Will, Aaron and Zach."

"Oh, my little Zachary.  Do they do good in school?"

"The're all out of school, Mom.  Will is 36."

"36?  Is he married?

"No, but he's living with a girl down in DC."

"Does he have any children?  No? What about the other two boys?"

"Nope, no grandbabies, Mom."

"Well, I think they should get busy...that's what I think."

"Oh Mom, look at these interesting flowers by the fountain."














"Aren't they just gorgeous?  Let me read the tag.  Oh, Alium. They look like star flowers."

"Can we go sit in that structure over there? What is that called?"

"A gazebo."

"Looks like they didn't have any money to put in windows.  Stop, Francis, I want to smell the roses."


Then we went over and sat in the gazebo for awhile before taking Mom for one last stroll.



The flowers at Newfield are just incredible.  I have no idea how many gardeners they have, but everything looks healthy and the gardens are weeded on a regular basis.















As we headed back to go inside, Mom saw a table with an umbrella and begged not to go inside just yet.




Fran pushed Mom up to the table and then said, "Listen you guys, I need to go the bathroom so I'm going to slip in this door."

"Francis Xaviar, you can't go in there.  It was nice of the rich lady to give us a tour of the garden but we can't use her facilties.  Where are your manners?"

"Mom, I'm going in there."

As Fran went through the slider Mom looked at me and said, "Whose house is this anyhow?"



"Mom, these are the Gardens at Newfield House, the nursing home where you now live."

"Bob, I don't live in a nursing home.  Whose house is this...it's nice of them to let us sit awhile out here.  Oh, here comes Francis.  I haven't seen you in days.  How did you know I would be here?"  Mom had completely forgotten that Fran had been with us for the stroll.

"Just stopped in for a little while, Mom.  This is nice out here.  How long have you been out here?"

"Bob and I came out just awhile ago.  Fran, are you married?"  And so the conversation went around in circles once again.  There was much laughter....and though Fran and I were repeating answers we had given many times before, we did not mind.  Did not Mom answer all our questions when we were small?





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If you are wondering, Fran's real name is Francis Xaviar Mills, Jr. ( Francis spelled with the "is") as is my name on my birth certificate, Robert Ketchen Mills.  I received the name Elizabeth when I was baptised.