Royal Manor, Nicholasville, KY
For several years in the late 1990s, two of my great-aunts – Aunt Vi and Aunt Hazel – resided at Royal Manor nursing home. It was designed as two long hallways like a letter “U” connected by central gathering, community spaces.
Down one corridor, my maternal grandmother’s elder sister had a room with a roommate, if I remember correctly. Hazel’s mind was strong and clear, her spirit mostly unsettled and her physical constraints dictated reliance on other people, whether in kindness and compassion or not. She knew what was up and was definitely not okay with it all.
Conversely, my paternal grandmother’s younger sister had a room to herself on the opposite Royal Manor corridor. She remained a sweet, pleasant spirit but drifted in and out of lucidity. We had deep conversations about far-distant memories. She could not tell me what or whether she had eaten that day. She did get manicures, apparently.
Here we are seated together on her bed. You can see the hospital nature of the bedframe along with the accent of “homelike” touches in a handmade afghan. Another contrast.
She was child-like as she worked to remove the gift wrap while emanating that giddy, expectant energy.
I remember one visit we sat side by side in rockers on the front porch and admired the sunset together. She talked of her home and that when she returned there someday soon, I should come visit. She would offer me things that she wanted to gift to me. She did not know that her home was packed away in a storage unit nearby and she would never be “going home” again.
Every so often, her body would shudder all over and she’d let out a moan, close her eyes for a moment. I do not know what her diagnosis was. Her pain was fleeting and repetitive, but I am not certain she remembered one to the next, really.
Viola died February 2000 and Hazel died in December 2000 that same year when I was living in New Jersey.
that Kentucky girl 