Our neighbor, Anne, apparently fell several days ago in her apartment and was unable to get up. Two days later an alert visiting nurse who had been unable to ring her called our front desk and she was discovered. Tonight, Anne's daughter, stopped by our apartment to share the news and to meet us.
Anne is our favorite neighbor. She's really the only one that has shown any interest in us as people since we moved in, invited us over for cocktails and popcorn in our early months, and recently coming over to our place for dinner. She is a woman who though in her mid to late 80s (I'd guess) still exudes woman-about-town adventure. I was struck on our first meeting of how much she reminded me of my great aunt, Lois. Lois lives in Topeka, a long way from Chicago, but for Topeka, Lois was Anne. Both married successful lawyers. Both had impeccable senses of style. Both had husbands that needed to be taken care of. Both were flowers that seemed to be losing some of their bloom.
Living away from family and elder care (believe me that my family has more than it's fair share of elder care), Anne's predicament has shaken me. Physical distance does not create emotional distance but it does sublimate it somehow. Tonight, I am sad to see another family dealing with very difficult times because I am sure I have seen emotion and worry in the face of Anne's daughter that my distance has masked in my family members.
