Autumn Rains

Iris and Norman Carter lived in an updated colonial home on the corner of Lake Street and Woodsboro Lane. They bought the home as honeymooners in 1967. The robust trees threw shade clear across the front yard and ivy crawled up the side of the house. Norman added a freestanding garage and workshop in ’72, then a greenhouse for Iris in ’79. They spent their free time beautifying the home inside and out, doing their own landscaping, building their own furniture, sewing their own curtains, pillows, and seat covers. They were proud of the home and the family that filled it with love. Four generations had gathered around the dining room table they built together fifty years ago for every holiday meal.

Norman unexpectedly passed away in his sleep last year at the age of seventy-six. Iris stayed in the house, but her days of working in the shed and the greenhouse were over. She tried several times, heading out there to shake off the depression she felt after losing her husband of fifty-six years, but something wasn’t right. Things didn’t seem familiar anymore. She no longer felt like she knew what she was doing. Eventually she gave up all together. The plants withered and the tools gathered dust. She kept herself busy caring for the house, keeping things neat and tidy. Frustration grew, however, as she could never seem to remember where she put things while she was cleaning. Her children and grandchildren would visit on a regular basis. They made note of Iris’s declining memory as she walked from room to room forgetting what she was going in there for and constantly misplacing things. When they voiced their concerns, Iris always chalked it up to old age with a giggle.

Iris was a spirited woman with a childlike personality. She was playful, silly, found the world wonderous and exciting, loved unconditionally. She was a positive woman who turned everyone’s frowns upside down with her antics. She was known for jumping into the pool with her clothes on, building forts, reading stories with character voices, cake and ice cream, managing adult conversations while entertaining children seamlessly, and lending a hand to all who were in need. She stayed home while Norman worked, raising the children and managing the home. She did the same for her grandchildren so all the parents could work. She was an intelligent woman who prepped all the kids for school, giving them a head start. Everyone who knew her loved her for her kindness, compassion, quick wit and quirky banter, dependability, honesty, and love. She was a remarkable woman who never forgot a birthday, anniversary, or anybody on the holidays.

Her youngest grandchild, Dena, was the first to notice something overly concerning. Dena stopped by for a visit with her newborn child after getting out of the hospital. Iris had visited Dena and held the baby at the hospital just a week prior, but was excited to see the new baby, asking, “Who is this little guy?” Dena paused, looking at her grandmother suspiciously, not sure if she was joking or not. Iris waited patiently for an answer.

“That’s Ethan, grandma. Don’t you remember holding him at the hospital last week?”

“Well, of course I do,” Iris uncharacteristically snapped.

During the visit, Dena noticed that her grandmother’s hygiene wasn’t what it used to be. Iris was also repeating a lot of questions throughout their conversations, which concerned Dena and made her uncomfortable.

“Grandma, have you been feeling well?”

“Yes, darling. I just forget things sometimes. Your mind slips when you get to be my age. Nothing to worry about, dear,” Iris said passively as she served Dena a piece of cake that she forgot to put sugar in.

Dena refrained from making a face as she ate the cake, not wanting to offend her grandmother who usually made delicious cakes. She downed it with a lot of sweat tea and ended their visit, saying she needed to get Ethan home and bathed before her husband got home. That was a lie. She was anxious to talk to her mother concerning her grandmother’s well-being.

Janie Kaufman, Iris’s middle child, made note of her daughter’s concerns, stating that she had noticed her memory slipping, but figured it was old age. She told Dena she would stop by and see her grandmother later in the week to assess the situation. The next evening, Janie got a call from her older brother, Tim. Iris had made a routine trip to the post office and got lost. She was scared and crying when she called her son at work. When he picked her up, she started apologizing, saying his father wasn’t answering the phone. Tim asked her to see a doctor, but Iris said she was fine, it was a one-time thing. When he brought up the fact that she mentioned his dad as if he were still living, she denied it. Janie and Tim agreed it was time to get the family together and have an intervention to convince their mother to see a doctor. Janie hung up and went to call Mark, her oldest, when she realized she was crying. Silent tears were beginning to dribble down her cheeks. She shuddered and stopped herself, took a deep breath, and made the call.

The three children and seven grandchildren showed up at Iris’s home unannounced one mid-morning. At first, Iris was surprised and pleased that everyone took a day to spend with her, but things turned sour as she realized their intentions. The old joyful, playful Iris had been replaced by a frustrated and confused one as of late. The accusations that her memory loss might be more than just old age scared her and added anger to the list. She fought everyone tooth and nail. In truth, she was starting to believe them, but did not want to know the truth. The kids and grandkids ended up wearing her down. She gave in and agreed to see a doctor just in time for her prescheduled appointment that afternoon. Tim, Janie, and Beth, Iris’s youngest, went with her. The grandchildren waited anxiously for word. After two hours, they got it: Alzheimer’s.

Iris’s children discussed what would be best for their mom. Since all of them worked, and their kids worked, they felt it was time to move her into a facility that provided twenty-four-hour care. They found a nice place with a good reputation not far from Tim’s place. They put Iris’s home on the market and started boxing up her belongings to move them into storage. Janie found her mom upstairs sitting on the edge of the bed with a tissue in her hand, crying.

“I know it’s hard, mom, but this is what’s best for you in the long run.”

“You see that molding up there. That was the first project your father and I worked on when we bought this place. You see that rocking chair in the corner. Your father made that when I got pregnant with Timothy. I rocked each of you kids to sleep in that chair when you were just babes. This quilt, I made it while your father built this bed. Before that, we had a mattress on the floor, and we used old hand-me-down blankets. When you had your first loose tooth, your father tied thread to your tooth and the other end to that doorknob right there before slamming it shut to pull the tooth out. The doctor says I have Alzheimer’s, but I remember all these things. One room stirs so many memories for me, just think what the entire house does. How much faster are the memories going to fade if the things that remind me disappear?”

Janie hugged her mother tightly but didn’t say a word. She marched out of the room and down the stairs.

“Unload it, unbox it, put it all back where you found it,” she said sternly.

“What are you talking about, sis,” an exhausted Beth asked. “We need to get this done before dinner.”

“Mom’s not leaving. I’m taking the house off the market first thing in the morning. I’m retiring early. I’m moving in here, and I’ll take care of mom, but she is not leaving,” Janie exclaimed as she pulled a box off the truck and took it back inside.

“Are you sure you want to do this,” Tim asked.

“Yes. Let’s let mom hold on to her memories as long as she can. I’ll take care of her.”

Janie moved in within the week. There wasn’t much for her to do at first since Iris was still capable of taking care of the house. Janie just needed to do some reminding from time to time. They both enjoyed having someone to converse with over meals and throughout the day. Janie cleaned up the greenhouse and the two women worked out there daily, tending to their plants and creating potted arrangements as gifts for friends and loved ones. At first, Iris felt that having Janie around and staying in her own home was strengthening her mind and warding off the disease. It was the happiest she had been since her husband died. Janie could see the change in her mother, see her regaining her radiance and charm, but slowly the disease took its hold.

Iris started to forget the younger members of the family and more recent acquaintances. She would get angry because she couldn’t find TV shows that had not been on the air in ten years. She would get frustrated when Janie had to tell her she couldn’t go to her favorite restaurant because it closed down almost fifteen years ago. Things got past the point of reminding her mother to bathe and brush her teeth. She had to help her at times, and dress her as well. Tim, Beth, and her kids would argue with her that it was too much strain on her and it was time to put Iris in a home. Janie refused every time, saying, “This is where she wants to be. It’s where she needs to be. I can do this.”

The day came when one morning Janie woke Iris to take her medication. Iris rose with fright, screaming at her, demanding to know what she was doing in her house. Janie explained who she was and tried to give her the medicine, which Iris slapped from her hand and started hitting her, scratching Janie’s face. Janie rushed out of the room in tears. She grabbed her phone and sat on the front steps to call Beth. Beth went over at once. When Beth got there, both women went upstairs to check on Iris. She was sitting on the edge of the bed staring at the wall.

“Mom,” Janie cautiously addressed her.

Iris turned to face her girls and said “Well, hi girls, what a lovely surprise,” as if nothing ever happened.

The disease’s grip got firmer and firmer from there on out. Every day was a struggle and a fight, sometimes literally. Once Iris was in bed and asleep, Janie would lay awake and cry, just to repeat the day’s events again, all the more tired. Tim, Beth, and her kids noticed the strain taking care of Iris was having on Janie. They tried talking to her, but she wouldn’t accept the fact that she could no longer care for her mother. They showed up one day without warning. Mark and Dena held their mother as Tim and Beth forced Iris from the house. Janie’s eyes filled with tears at the look of fear and confusion on her mother’s face.

“Who are you people! Where are you taking me! This is my home! You just can’t drag me out of my home!” Iris looked at Janie with terrified eyes. “Please, help me!”

Janie cried out loud and struggled against her children to get to her mom, but her children hugged her and lowered her to the floor, letting her cry on their shoulders. Meanwhile, Tim and Beth were loading Iris into the car to take her to the only nursing home that had an opening.

The next day, Janie went to see her mom with a bouquet of flowers in her hand. The room was disappointing to Janie. It looked like a hospital room, unlike the private suite at the home near Tim’s. She put the flowers in a pitcher and sat them on the nightstand. Sitting down on the side of Iris’s bed, she took her mother’s hand and said, “I failed you, mom, but I’m going to try and get you out of here.”

Iris looked down at her hand and pulled it away. “Mom? I’m not your mom. I don’t even know you. Is there something you are supposed to be doing? If not, my show is about to come on, so if you don’t mind…”

Janie felt her heart hit her stomach and retracted. It was only then that she could truly accept the state that her mother was in. Then she saw a magazine on the chair. It was a magazine that published short stories.

“I’m here to read to you Mrs. Carter. I’ll be done before your show starts. I’m Janie.”

“Well, alright Janie. A little story might be nice.”

Janie moved over to the chair and read a story called Autumn Rains, a story of an elderly couple who find love in a nursing home during their dying days. Iris loved the story. She said it was romantic. Janie stuck the magazine in her purse, bringing it back with her every day to read. It was always like Iris was hearing it for the first time, every time.

Iris passed away six months later, having no idea who she or anyone else was. She spent a lifetime making memories to lose them all in the end, but the memories of her lived on in the hearts of those who knew her. Janice decided to keep the house, hoping to keep it in the family as long as possible. She started a garden in the back yard with a trellis, pond, and bench. Carved in stone and placed in front of the pond are the words Autumn Rains. Janie appreciated all the extra time she got with her mother, but it was those final months of friendship through reading that Janie appreciated the most.