Last year I became an orphan. My Mother died 10 days after her 92nd birthday. Near the end of the year, “something” told me that she would not make it to her 93rd birthday.

I stopped working at the end of December and one month later I was in an ambulance accompanying her to the ER. She fell in her elder care apartment, but fortunately, she did not break anything. She was subsequently discharged, and was now reluctantly coming to live with me. I made many phone calls to our caregivers network to help make a decision on how I could best help her. Her doctor agreed that the fall would require that she have physical therapy daily and that she could benefit from a temporary placement in a nursing home. He said that when her mobility improved, she could return to her apartment.

Of course none of this happened without a great deal of reluctance on her part. She maintained that I was in “cahoots” with the doctor to “put her away”. It did not help that I have a background in nursing - she thought that I had to power to influence the physician. The staff at the nursing home was incredible in their attempts to help her adjust. They were colleagues and they supported me in my decision.

What I was not prepared for was the amount of work it would take to clean her unit at the senior housing complex where she resided. My primary goal was to make her living space safe.

My Mother had always been someone who kept everything - yogurt containers, pieces of aluminum foil, pie pans from the bakery, ice cream cup containers, plastic cutlery from every fast food business, and old medicine. Also, when residents left the complex and wanted to give away their articles of clothing and small pieces of furniture, she would collect and store them as well.

Needless to say, the housing staff was constantly on her case to clean up, but she maintained that someday, someone would need these treasures.

I girded my loins and with the help of dedicated friends and family began the task. At the conclusion of our work, we were able to provide the activity department at the nursing home with boxes of yarn, material, thread, and other craft supplies. Their thrift store became the recipient of bags of clothing, bedding (some of which were in their original packages because she bought them for beds she did not have), and other household items.

While she was alive, Mom enjoyed playing Bingo for pennies each Sunday. We would have to plan her day around this activity. During our cleaning efforts we found at least 6 bingo game boards. In addition we found $352 in pennies. Every used pill container, each drawer, and every jewelry box had a copper coin.

At the gravesite following her funeral, instead of flower petals, we placed her pennies on her casket. The pallbearers filled their gloves with coins and tied them to the casket handles.

As we left the cemetery you could almost hear her call out “Bingo”.