A bit more on the aunts, whom I loved dearly and think of often.

As the years rolled along, my children were growing, my schooling progressing, I had the joy of getting to know my elderly aunts as more than doting, childless relatives with a charming brogue, a fascinating single lifestyle in the world’s most exciting city and a checkbook for birthdays. I would visit more often and realized rather quickly they were both aging more rapidly and changing into people in need of more regular assistance. They were physically quite well, but mentally in the twilight of brilliant lives. A neighbor from the old sod was available to check in daily and assure they were maintaining the basic activities of daily living (and to give me a call if not). She was a God send. I did not realize how much so until one Sunday morning when she called, concerned, when she had not been able to reach them the evening before or early this morning.

A bit more than concerned, I called my brother who had a key and lived in the city. He checked the apartment and found it empty. I called a cousin in Jersey City to see if she had heard from them, but no luck. We next began calling hospitals and police stations in Manhattan as we headed for their neighborhood. A few hours later, we hit paydirt. They had been hospitalized the evening before (when Elizabeth had become aggressive after an evening’s libations, and Mary called 911 for assistance). Both were taken to a local ER and after Elizabeth was admitted, Mary collapsed…so there they both stayed. Upon our arrival, it clear this was a sentinel event for a higher level of care or assistance as they clearly needed 24/7 assistance.

And now started the clock…and the dance begins. The hospital, after initial evaluations (and Elizabeth biting more than one aide), announced both must be discharged. I balked, explaining we could not return them to their apartment safely and rooms in our choice of assisted living facilities (selfishly near my home and work) would not be available for 2 more days. After daily trips to the hospital in NY, I gave the social worker numbers where I knew I would not be and conveniently returned her calls after hours… until Friday evening (~5p). When we connected, I gambled she would not stay to ensure discharge occurred that evening and instead, would dump the business to the weekend coverage (which she did).

On Saturday, my brother rescued them (or the hospital?) and shepherded my aunts to our home in the ‘burbs. There, after a lovely lunch, we brought them to a beautiful facility (thank you for a successful high school friend with insights to start a business I would later need) where I had brought some of their things and furniture and began the move-in process. A new chapter of a complicated story.

Of convenient timing….opportunities afforded by a flexible work schedule

One of the many benefits of being a SAHM was the flexibility of my day. This led quite often to opportunities to be connected to friends and family in unique and very meaningful ways.

Not the least of these was being close enough to my elderly aunts to realize things were declining more quickly than the casual observer may have noted. But, stoic as their immigrants roots required, neither would ask for help or raise a flag of frailty. Instead, as my visits became more regular and routine, I began to quickly note the changes know to many who care for the elderly: housekeeping spotty (dishes piled high where they never were before), few new purchases (not sure if this was because money handling or shopping was just a chore), clothing looking more and more shabby (eyesight worsening and attention to these details failing), retention of even the most basic of junk mail (as potentially important, but unable to be sure) and it goes on and on…

I started to slowly take on some responsibility (sending Christmas cards, paying rent and other regular accounts), visiting doctors and local merchants with them (to check them out but also to let them know someone else was involved) and just learning. Among my missions was to get their affairs in order, as neither ever married and had few relatives to rely upon.

One of the more enlightening conversations with these two aunts, who emigrated to the US in the 1950s and lived together in the same apartment in Manhattan for more than 40 years (a rent controlled haven) – perfect instance of the need for an ‘alternative family’ acknowledgment, was about their choice of final resting place. Having buried some siblings here in the US and others back ‘home’, I thought this was a good starting place for the Last Wills, Living Wills, etc conversation (as those of you with relatives of this generation will attest, these conversations, if they occur at all, are uncomfortable at best.

In unison, the elder of my father’s living sisters, let’s call her Mary, more meek and accommodating, and her younger sister, Elizabeth, the more defiant and definitely more challenging to please, both provided unique answers: “Gate of Heaven” (NYC)/ “Home in Ireland …of course”.

Humm… I sputtered. Clearly we needed to discuss.

Long and short of it, they agreed, they’d prefer to be in Ireland, their place of birth to which they had returned annually for many summers (much more later….think pre-9/11 and arriving at JFK with 10 min to spare for a transatlantic flight…and boarding!). Although, they also agreed, it was less important where than that they be together. I concurred and agreed we’d not have to speak of this again.

So began my intimate journey with Mary and Elizabeth and their final years. It was a source of great honor for me to be able to be with them during these difficult and exciting years, but also a significant strain that I cannot imagine combining with a challenging career, such as the one I enjoy now. So for all of us, this was a blessing to be together and available for each other.