Since the 1980s I have been visiting my mother’s sister, my aunt Betty, in Sun City Center, a planned community for over 55s in central Florida. I love my aunt, and I love seeing her, a woman who has been a part of my life for all of my life, one who is – or was – as full of energy, fun, music, love and zest for life as a 2 month-old puppy. She was a nun, and has buried two husbands since leaving the convent after 18 years inside. She was a nurse, a nurse educator, a hospital administrator, a volunteer for hospice and the SCC ambulance corps, and she has been a force for (mostly) good all of the days of her long life. Her relationship with my mother was complicated (whose wasn’t?); her brothers called her ‘Sarge’ because she was bossy and pushy AF, but now – at almost 93 years old – she isn’t bossing anyone anymore. Aunt Betty is, in fact, struggling with asking for help, with needing help, with allowing herself to be bossed, a little, because she is failing, and failing in a big way.
Yes, I love my aunt, and last week (ish) I was in SCC visiting her for what I believe strongly will be the last time. Who knows; I sure don’t. It’s very possible – her health care proxy agrees – that she is deliberately starving herself, as well as neglecting to take a few of her meds, all of which – her mind is still very sharp – aren’t leading to anywhere other than an end, sooner rather than later. She says she’s ready, but we danced around the subject in conversation. Her quality of life is shite, however; she has fallen four times in the last three months. Deep breaths. I cleaned and cleared her house, so much unopened junk mail left lying around in piles among other piles of stuff, which she asked me to do, but also deeply resented. I took her out to lunch and breakfast as well as joining her in SCC’s independent living dining facility for dinner and breakfast as was required by time, energy, and my ability to tolerate senior dining. This might make me sound like a loving niece and all-around good person, but in truth, it’s the least I can do for this amazing, hilarious, and incredibly annoying woman I will miss very much. Sarge.
But what’s with Never Will I Ever? Well, after forty years of visits – actually after one or two years of visiting Betty there, I determined that never will I ever live in that kind of community, or Florida. Nope, never. Never. Truthfully, I cannot stand Florida. Several gorgeous beaches, lovely seafood, a few charming old-style towns that remain – but their water tastes like shit, which comes through even in the ice cubes, the out of control consumption, development, no-recycling, and repetitive mall of America sameness is simply not to my taste. None of the over-55 communities, and most of the more diverse family-style developments – and there are a lot – allow you to hang out your laundry – in Florida, the sunshine state; solar power panels are allowed but I saw very little solar actually in use/installed, which is criminal, but very ‘un-woke’, which I believe is the point, or part of the point? Ultimately, while I respect and even understand (mostly) why people are attracted to the type of residential living SCC represents, I loathe Sun City Center. Safe, comfy, 99.999% white and straight, and well-heeled. NOPE.
SCC is also very Christian, Catholic especially. One of Sarge’s less attractive qualities is being almost more Catholic than the Pope. She is and always has been unkind to family members who have committed the sin of divorcing. It’s insane, and – she’s dying. Time to give it a rest, Moj. Time to let go, literally and figuratively. My cousin, who lives about 15 minutes away, doesn’t think this is the end. He may be right, but we’re getting there. Her mind is sharp; her body is done. I advised my cousin to think about letting her go, as Betty will hang around for as long as those of us who love her allow their need to hang on outweigh the palpable pain and suffering of her present lived reality. She’s malnourished. She sleeps most of the day. She’s buried not just two husbands but eleven siblings, and so many friends I cannot begin to imagine the depth and breadth of her losses. She lost her parents – both of them – by her sixteenth birthday. Seven of my first cousins have died during her lifetime, the younger generation of her own family going first. None of her in-laws are still living. Speaking as a human being – all of that is a lot.
She has worked and helped and bossed and cared for people since her twenties; having also lost that ability, she is bored and miserable. Each person’s end is individual and wholly their own. Will this fierce and fiercely independent women be able to let go? Will we let her go? Well, we’re going to have to, won’t we. Still – good context for my own end game plans, and again: never will I ever. Good gawd, no. No. Nope.
Photo of the dinner-time row of walkers from SCC Independent living.
