Assisted Living - Oct 19 2026

 

Assisted Living

Oct 19 2026

The assisted living facility

that took my mother in

was pleasant enough.

She was placed in her own small apartment

with a clever kitchen

that was foolproof, but never used,

and where she kept on living

a few more years.

Yes, of course a facility,

she couldn’t live on her own.

But does anyone not need assistance

to live their life,

hasn’t had it all along?

Even the libertarian

who exalts the sovereign self

depends on others,

the survivalist

who believes he’ll never need help

eventually will.

As if it’s even desirable 

to live like a feral animal

hunkered down in its lair

all alone.

I think of the help I received,

the community

I leaned on.

Of the stranger I saw

help a blind man cross the street,

elbow in hand

guiding him firmly to the curb.

And of the dog I lost,

and the good samaritan I’m grateful to

for finding her.

When she moved into the facility 

where she would live out her life

we packed light.

There were the usual essentials

we assembled in advance.

A landscape painting

to brighten the place.

And some practical clothes

for a lover of fashion

who always dressed immaculately,

whether attending a premiere 

or dashing to the corner store.

And, of course, some sentimental tchotchkes

she would have chosen if she could.

Not to mention the precious mementos 

of a life well-lived

for the woman who forgets.

A black and white photograph

of smiling newlyweds

  — the parents who raised her

looking impossibly young.

A modest urn

with my father’s ashes

  — her help-mate all the years

we were a family.

And pictures of the kids

in mortarboards and capes

she supported on the way;

faces she could no longer name

but found somehow familiar. 

The vibrant young woman

who became a stooped old lady

with thinning blue/grey hair.

The young mother, who stopped taking care,

and hardly ever complained

when an attendant changed her diaper

helped her undress;

the kind people

at Sunset Acres

who sometimes grew impatient

but assisted all the same.

Assisted living

from birth to death.

I overheard the phrase “assisted living facility” mentioned incidentally somewhere, and it instantly struck me that no one — of any age or ability — lives unassisted. 

We live in a complex interdependent society. Even the smug survivalists are fooling themselves. Our lives are only rich and easy because we depend on legions of others, on complicated systems and logistics we take for granted but never see and know nothing about. Not to mention family, friends, and the kindness of strangers.

Sunset Acres is a little much! But it was the first name that came to me, and it fit. So I kept it.