Page 32 of Sunny Skies Ahead
Me
Hey. Would you be willing to read over the cover letter I just wrote and let me know if it sounds okay? It’s in the Google Drive.
Imogen Phillips
Of course, I’ll review it this afternoon :)
I was about to close my laptop when my phone buzzed again. I glanced at the screen. My heart dropped when I saw the caller ID. I accepted the call with shaky fingers.
“Hey, Kameron, it’s Gail,” the woman said, sounding tired. I immediately sat up straighter in my chair.
“Hey, Gail. What’s wrong?”
“Sorry to call you out of the blue like this,” Gail said. “I’m calling to let you know your mom had another episode.”
I closed my eyes, tightening my grip on the phone.
Gail was the director of the Laketon nursing home where my mother resided. More than that, she was a close family friend who helped my mother and I navigate life after my father’s death. I owed so much to her.
“How bad was it?” I asked, already dreading the answer.
“We’re on day four now,” Gail said quietly, and my heart sank. “You asked for us to let you know if things progressed with her memory loss. Unfortunately, I think it’s time for us to discuss moving her to a higher echelon of care.”
The words clanged through me. My chest tightened, and I fought to keep my breathing even. I’d first noticed the dementia signs in my mother years ago. It was little things, like her forgetting a story she used to tell about her and Dad, or that she couldn’t remember I’d joined the Marine Corps after high school.
“How often is she lucid?” I said, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.
“On a good week, maybe half the day? On weeks like this, where she’s struggling. . . less than an hour, if that.”
I inhaled sharply.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Gail murmured. “You have no idea how badly I wished this wasn’t the case.”
“You always told me it was a possibility. I guess I’d just hoped we’d have more time.”
“Can you make it out to Laketon sometime this month? I’m sure she’d appreciate a visit, and we can discuss her care going forward.”
“Yeah, of course,” I said, wiping a hand down my face. “Let me get in contact with my assistant and figure out a time.”
“So things are going well at the farm, then? If you’ve hired an assistant,” Gail said. If my heart wasn’t actively breaking at the knowledge that my mom’s health was declining, my chest would have swelled with pride.
“They are,” I mumbled. “Thanks for updating me, Gail. I’ll call you.”
“Take care of yourself, honey.”
I hung up and let my phone clatter to the table as I put my head in my hands.
When I’d helped my Mom move into the center in Laketon, I’d done it because she needed more mental health support than what I could give her. It was right before I’d received orders to an extended training course at Pendleton. I didn’t want her alone in the house Dad and her had bought when they found out she was pregnant with me.
I’d convinced her to sell the house and move into the Laketon facility because they had a tiered system of care, meaning she could live as independently as she could manage, and they’d adjust her care plan as needed. I’d never been more grateful for her government pension than I was when I got the first bill from Gail’s facility.
Over the last few years, she needed less mental health support, and more health support. Her dementia was progressing.
My mother was never the same after my father died. She never fully recovered.
Yet, hearing that her memory loss was progressing felt like I was losing a parent all over again. It would be a different kind of pain, watching my mother fade mentally while she was still with me physically, but no less poignant.
I stared at the front door, wishing more than anything that Imogen was coming this weekend. Her presence calmed me more than I cared to admit. My phone buzzed with a text from her.
