Remember for Me
I always dread talking to the phone company because the frustrating series of robot voices and the stream of “push 1,” “push 2,” and “push 1 again” is maddening—not to mention the operators I can barely understand. But I was surprised today by the phone company (or was it God?), who connected me to the one and only decent human being in the entire history of phone companies.
When I said, “I need to cancel service for my mother’s cell phone,” tears began to puddle in my eyes.
“May I ask what the issue is?” she asked.
“Yes, she has dementia and is no longer able to use the phone.”
At that point, the very human, non-robotic operator put me on hold, and I distracted myself by unloading the dishwasher. She returned before I finished the silverware basket and said it had been taken care of. She then read part of the service agreement, which included: “You will not be able to retrieve messages from this phone, and if you change your mind, this number will no longer be available to you.”
It sounded so final.
Giving up my mother’s phone number? The number my sons learned to dial so they could talk to their grandmother? The same number we dialed several times a day when my father was sick, and the number that would show up on my phone when she called to say we should go to lunch? Yes, that’s the one.
We gave her a new landline with big buttons labeled with her closest family members, but she sometimes forgets it’s there. When she had the cell phone, it was too confusing and she couldn’t remember to charge it. When I’d visit her in her assisted living apartment, I spent half my time searching for the phone.
When a teenager gets keys to the car, it’s a day of celebration. But when those same teens grow up and take the keys away from their parents, it’s traumatic. I guess the same sort of reverse parenting is true for the phone these days. The freedom of youth is tempered on the other end of life when we become the decision makers.
She brushed my hair when she dressed me for school, and now I brush hers when I dress her for the day. “Sorry if I yanked that knot in your hair, but remember how you’d pull my ponytail so tight I’d squirm?” Ha-ha. She still thinks that’s funny.
I told the phone company representative, “This was a difficult call for me to make, but you made it easy. Thank you.”
She calmly said, “I know this is a hard time. I wish you the best and hope you have a nice day.” Then she added, “You’ll be okay.”
Thank you, Verizon. Not since the “Reach Out and Touch Someone” TV commercials from my childhood has a phone company made me cry.
This is the song Gordon Mote shared with me when we met a few weeks ago to collaborate on my new children’s book. It is a beautiful song to which many of you will be able to relate.
Happy Mother’s Day.
WOW. Now you made ME cry. This is great LA. You and Gordon are both treasures?!!
Thanks, friend.
All of these things are so dang hard. I still feel guilty for having Mother in an assisted living facility. I feel like some horrid daughter. The car was sold about 1.5 years ago. She was determined she could drive even though I took her everywhere. She called to inform me one Saturday morning that she was on her way to my house in the car. I PRAYED. She arrived all smug, but something happened on the way home because she was suddenly ready for me to sell it.
I was so grateful recently that they made a new iPhone similar to her old one which had died. I was like there is no way I am gonna teach her to swipe up. We changed her phone sometime around 2020 to our plan which meant I had to cancel Verizon. We did it over the phone and all was well. Then they kept sending a bill and a few months later she paid the bill. Oh my goodness. Let’s just say it is good to have an attorney friend who wrote a letter to clear that up when I could no longer get them to do anything about it in person or over a phone.
Watching my mother age has aged me. IT is just plain hard! I feel for you.
Oh, Sandy, all we can do is hang in there and hope our children are seeing us learn the discipline of respect and honor. Maybe that’s why we go through times like this – to learn patience and teach it to those who watch. No matter what, it’s exhausting. Hugs to you this Mother’s day!
Leslie Anne, I am so sorry. I listened to Gordon’s song and wept. I didn’t lose a parent to dementia, but I am losing my best friend for over 50 years! I try hard not to cry when she doesn’t remember what we talked about two days ago. You are a precious daughter. I will be praying for you and your beautiful mom🙏🏻❤️
Gordon played a few lines of this and sang it for me in person, and then was interrupted. I was glad he had to stop because I didn’t want to start crying there in front of him. I’m glad you liked it, and I’m sure there are glimmers of remembrance with your friend. Keep visiting, you are a good friend indeed.
I am reading this and listening to Gordon Mote’s song just a year after losing my mother. I am still processing her life and her death. Questioning decisions, rejoicing in others. It is so very difficult to parent your parent. Looking back, talk about the shared memories even the ones you have talked about a hundred times. Laugh together even though frustrated and anxious. The small moments matter.
I’m so sorry about your mother Judie. My friend who will turn 107 years old next month told me there isn’t a day that goes by when she doesn’t think about her Dad. She said it gets sweeter and the memories are just as strong as years ago. That’s a relief I cling to – remembering the good. Praying for you friend!
It will be six years this Sunday May 10th that my mother left this earth, which was also Mother’s Day.
Wow – that’s a tough one that I hope can also be sweet in some way. You need an honest and sincere – “bless your heart!”
Leslie Anne, that was a beautiful song and I did cry, but it gave me hope, too. I told my Momma before she passed on August 13, 2025 at the age of 90 that she would see my Dad and sister, Diane, soon. She smiled and I told her that when I get to Heaven that it’d be a wonderful jubilee and we could all celebrate and be together with Jesus. She laughed and said I was crazy, but we both believed it! This will be a difficult Mother’s Day, but I will celebrate her beautiful life and remember all of the love ❤️ our family had because of her.
I’m so sorry about your mother, but what a beautiful and brave thing you told her. I’m sure it made her so happy.
Just beautiful Leslie Anne and so true in regard to the role reversal and it’s tough on them and us. Seasons definitely change is the best way I personally know how to describe it. Love you sweet friend and thank you for sharing. 💗
That’s a great way to put it. Thanks Cyndi.
So beautiful, My sister has memory loss and this was so meaningful to me. Thank you for sharing. Your mother is so fortunate to have you nearby. Beautiful song I copied it for future.
And your sister is blessed to have you!