All names have been changed on the slight chance a family member from any of the residents I mention from a particular assisted living facility from a particular town comes across this. There’s a 99.999% chance that will and could never happen, but sometimes odds are crazy.
I woke up thinking about the seniors I used to work with… well, more around the seniors. I was just the dishwasher at a facility. And prep cook. And food deliverer. And dining room turn-down champion. In my downtime, I would sit and chat with a few. But I woke up thinking about all the people that lived there. I haven’t seen them since 2013 when I left, an entire decade ago, so I think I can presume they’re no longer there. But I miss their smiles.
Keiko had to wear a neck brace at all times. When you saw her walking down the halls, her head hung low and her face stared at the floor and she occasionally glanced up with the hopes, I think, of seeing someone, anyone, because as soon as she saw you, she’d lift her head in excitement, the best smile would appear, and she’d start joking and laughing and was full of gaiety. People gave her energy and her spirits were at all-time highs when people were with her.
Helena, oh Helena. She mumbled often and could barely make out sentences, but that never stopped her from trying to say what she wanted to say. During holidays, she was the best. Decorating the Christmas tree was an activity for all to join, but she was basically the leader. Her eyes would light up when the time came to decorate the tree. If another resident placed an ornament and she didn’t approve of its placement, she’d move it without hesitation, all while smiling and basically saying you idiot, this doesn’t belong here and nobody had any right to get mad at her.
Vinny was a character. He never talked. He watched. He’d enter a room with his walker, turn it around, use it as a seat, and watch. Whether he was watching a group play bingo or watching Rosemary make her laps around the courtyard with her walker or watching others do crafts in the dining room or watching someone slowly fall asleep while they were watching tv in the living room, he just sat and watched. An observer at heart. Probably a bit of a creeper, too. But he was my kind of guy because I relate. Most of the time, I’d rather observe than participate. He frequently chuckled to himself while he watched people and I always wondered what he was thinking and if he was making up scenarios about everyone in his head and what comments he was making to himself about his housemates.
Greg was a ladies’ man. At least with one lady. They had been caught numerous times in one of the empty bedrooms. Later in the day, you’d see him flirting with a different lady. What a player. But nobody slept with him except for the one. He always had a smug smile of satisfaction on his face. I remember when a caregiver first told me about catching him in the act and I was delighted to learn you don’t lose those urges when you’re older. You go, Greg.
Susan was a movie star. Like, for reals. She was actually in movies. She kept pictures in her room of her glamour days and they were of equal stature with such stars as Ingrid Bergman and Hedy Lamarr and Gene Tierney and Lauren Bacall. But she never became a household name. She was still glamorous in her 80s and loved to dress up and do her makeup and be ready for whatever the day might have brought. I bet she’s drinking champagne with Hollywood now.
Beatrice was a grump and I miss her face tremendously. She never participated in group activities. She never wanted to leave her room and socialize. She always complained about the food. She was rude to the caregivers that were only trying to help her get dressed. But when she did smile, oh boy, you were in for a treat. If you could get her to smile, you were a golden being. A chosen one. It was usually only her son who could do it effortlessly, but there were a select few that had the gift as well. She had an infectious smile and it was an honor to have witnessed it on several occasions.
Ken was an asshole, but it wasn’t his fault. Most everyone had a stage of dementia and he was at a stage where he’d always forget where he was and all he wanted to do was smoke his cigarettes and he hated to be told no. Smoking was allowed, but only in the courtyard. He preferred his room. He’d become aggressive with staff when they told him he couldn’t smoke inside and this was an everyday-numerous-times-a-day battle. But if you caught him in a good mood, he was great and easygoing with lots of stories to share.
The first time I saw Dawn, I thought she was a new employee. It was 5am and I was walking down the hall toward the kitchen and saw this woman dressed like an hr rep with her purse on and she was lookin’ snazzy for an employee. It wasn’t until I talked to her that it dawned on me (ha, get it?) that she was a new resident and had arrived the evening before. When she talked to you, she always had a smile and said everything in an almost authoritative way. I never knew what her career had been, but she was some kind of professional. She was also a professional escape artist at the facility. The emergency exit door alarms went off every hour and the chase was always on. One time, she was trying to get in someone’s car as they were slowly driving through the parking lot. Poor stranger. But also poor Dawn because she knew she didn’t belong there.
There was a married couple and they hated each other. They had separate rooms, rarely talked civilly to each other, and it wasn’t until I asked someone why Margie always slept in her walker in front of Billy’s door that I learned they were married. I always wondered what happened in their marriage for it to get to such a hateful stage, but there had to be some kind of lingering love for her to always be nearby. Or it was security. But Billy was the best from what I saw. He was a navy veteran and one of the most lovable guys around and wore the best old man sweaters. It broke my heart when he passed and his family never came to collect his belongings. They said to toss it all. I’m an old man, so of course I took several of his sweaters and still wear them.
I hope everyone is at peace and having a grand time.
I love this. I love that you wear Billy's sweaters, I would too. Old people and little children are my favorite people because they are the most interesting and give no fucks. They're either not yet jaded by life or are so jaded by life that they've returned to their childlike essence. I'd definitely be a Dawn/ professional escape artist who doesn't belong.