By Chantal Patenaude
The delicate old woman at a standstill, barely leaning on her cane, stood out on Monkland Avenue. I asked if she needed help. “If you don’t mind,” she replied revealing her sharp green eyes from underneath her short-brimmed hat.
Just like Mom had been, she was petite—elegant in her mid-length cotton skirt, buttoned up white cardigan, with a light coat of neutral lipstick—and frail.
I asked her where she was going. “Home,” she pointed across the street. At turtle pace, while holding her manicured hand, we reached the other side of the crossway long after the walk signal stopped flashing.
Flo told me she’d lost her husband of 69 years. “I like to do things myself. But it’s too hot today, I only bought my newspaper,” she raised the reusable shopping bag worn in the crook of her elbow.
I fondly remembered my mother, a catch in my throat. She loved to browse in the stationery store.
Flo, now 92, had been a nurse and cared for dementia patients. “I’m lucky I didn’t get that dreadful disease,” she halted. The squeeze of her hand made my heart twist.
On her doorstep, just above the immaculate lawn and flower bed, she confirmed that she lived alone in the lower duplex. The dread that shook my insides for years resurfaced. “Will you have some water now?” I suggested. With a smile that reached her eyes, she replied, “I’ll have tea, I’m Scottish.”
I loosened my grip and let her go.
* * *
Chantal Patenaude lives in Montreal, Quebec. She is currently working on a memoir about her mother. An excerpt was published in Healthing.
I find this text very moving. The author describes her main character so well that I would have no trouble recognizing Flo if I passed her on the street. It bodes well for the memoir of her mother the author is writing.
I find Chantal Patenaude’s text very touching. The author describes her main character so well that I would have no trouble recognizing her if I passed her on the street. It bodes well for the memoir of her mother she is writing.
I find this text very moving. The author describes her main character with such clarity that I would have no problem recognizing Flo if I passed her on the street. It bodes well for the memoirs of her mother the author is writing.
A lovely read !
What a masterfully written short piece. Tight and yet so poignant. I felt as if I’d met Flo myself. And as if I’d like to meet her again!
I find the text very moving. The author describes her main character with such clarity that I’d have no trouble recognizing Flo if I passed her on the street. It bodes well for the memoirs of her mother the author is writing.
What a lovely piece- thank you, Chantal, for giving me this moment to consider the beauty of life in such a way.
Very touching. Looking forward to read more.
Love, love, love! Such an amazing text…Could have kept reading it was a delight!
Beautifully written text that embodies true compassion.
Chantal captures so much emotion and story depth in those few short words! Flo is instantly recognizable as one of the too easily overlooked senior citizens gracing our cities and towns, and while it is unfortunate that helpful people like Chantal are less recognizable or common, her experience of coping with a parent with dementia is all too familiar for all too many of us. No doubt her upcoming memoir will resonate widely – and be much appreciated, just like her efforts to help Flo.
The truth is behind so many invisible elderly folks is a story untold. Such a dear portrayal by Chantal that invites the opposite as she took an opportunity to see, hear and witness a remarkable journey. Let’s not just walk by!