Woodstar's Journey: Hat Therapy

I left Glenwood Springs on Tuesday 12/14. Destination: Las Vegas. I drove past the nursing home which is currently home to my Aunt Audrey.

I decided not to stop to say goodbye.

I justified this because I had seen her a few days earlier - and I really didn't feel "up to" going there again. It's a decent place - but a nursing home is a nursing home. I also had a 10-hour drive ahead and felt compelled to get on with it.

As I sat there waiting for the stoplight to change - I changed my mind. I made a spontaneous - and probably illegal - U-turn to go back to see her. It felt important.

I admit that a small part of the decision was duty-based. But it was mostly because I wanted to see her and to say farewell. I also didn't want to regret not taking the opportunity to see her one more time.

I walked into her room. She gave me a wonderful smile of surprise. I reminded her of my name - that I wasn't Kathy. I don't believe she really thinks I'm my sister Kathy - but more likely just mixes up our names. A reasonable dilemma with there being 6 girls in my family.

I bent down to give her a hug. This was not an easy task. It was a challenge not to end up falling on top of her as her mattress was lowered nearly to the floor. She'd been busted by the staff trying to get in and out of bed by herself. Bad idea. One remedy: shorten the distance of a potential fall by putting her closer to the floor.

She patted her hand on the mattress to invite me to sit down. We hugged again and she held on tight. We both cried at the overwhelming emotion of the moment - each with our own private reasons for our tears. Our hug ended - but the physical connection did not.

Her breathing was labored and her voice was weak and barely audible. I found myself leaning forward and listening intently to be able to hear and understand her. As she talked - I was moved by the gentle ways she continued to make contact...

...She held and surveyed my hands. She played with my hair - running her fingers through it and re-arranging my bangs. She gently felt the back of my head and recognized the "baby bump" on my skull. She told me that she remembered the feel of my head from those times she held me as an infant. The sense of touch is an amazing thing!

She adjusted the short gold chain necklace I was wearing and situated it so the clasp was in the back. She zipped my sweater all the way to the top - then put it back to where it had been so my necklace would be visible again. She did all this as she talked to me.

She wept as she told me how much she loved all of her family. She wished family relationships had been better. There were situations where she regretted her actions. (Join the club!) There were times where words should have been left unsaid. There were also times where honest words could have avoided misunderstandings and hurt feelings.

For 30 minutes we talked about fun memories and heart-wrenching regrets. I admitted my belief that loved ones who passed before us are waiting to welcome us when it's time to move on from this place.

She told me of Laura May - the stillborn baby daughter that she never got to see. The grief of that experience was still evident. The peace at the possibility of meeting her one day was profound.

Now the connection to Hat Therapy - albeit another of my misses at making a long story short.

Audrey told me about baby Laura May's namesakes - her Aunt Laura and Aunt May. She especially remembered Aunt May as a kind, patient, and loving woman - who loved to wear big wonderful hats.

Aunt Audrey's theory was that because of social morays and expectations of the time - women of her Aunt May's generation didn't have many acceptable outlets for dealing with stress and frustration. But they could buy and wear hats. So we decided it must be Hat Therapy!

I had not heard of this theory before - but felt it had some validity.