S is for Sophie
When Sophie walked in my front door, I could not believe my eyes. She was a frail, filthy dirty, scared and hunched over, eighty- year –old woman. I wondered if she had bugs [I am ocd like that.] I told her to sit on the sofa, while in my mind I was imagining, throwing that big red sofa away and buying a new one.
I made her a hot cup of tea and a scrambled egg, after I noticed she had no teeth. I told her I would make her a nice warm bath, which I did and I gave her my favorite silk pajamas, clean underwear and a warm fluffy pair of socks.
While she was in the bathroom, I made up the sofa with our softest sheets, pillows and a warm blanket.
I wanted to ask her a thousand questions. Do you have a family, where you ever married? Do you have children? How did you get in this situation? I decided not to ask too many. She said she had been living in the woods beside McDade Boulevard, a main thorough fare, for seven months. She told us people attacked her and stole her money, several times.
Jeeze, talk about a soft target and for what a few coins. I became angry.
She seemed to trust John completely and was not too sure of me. The feeling was mutual. My husband is the least judgmental person I know. I admired his compassion and knew in my heart keeping her safe on this cold wet night was the right thing to do.
We made sure she had everything she might need and John and I went to bed. I locked our bedroom door. Yes, I was scared. I pictured her stabbing us in our sleep, robbing us blind or having friends come to our house to rob us. I tossed and turned all night. I tried to imagine how you let an eighty -year –old woman become homeless and then reverted to what has she done to find herself in this situation.
I wanted her and the reality of her situation to go away. I felt guilty that I felt that way. I had a history with homeless people though, and it was not always good. I took in a homeless woman once before when I was a young, divorced mom. She had a baby. My kids and I fell in love with the baby. The mother emotionally blackmailed and sometimes even terrorized us for years.
I took in a young man that was homeless and he smoked pot around my young daughters and their friends. I was furious.
I took in a childhood friend and her two children because they were in an abusive situation. Her husband had no idea I existed, so they were safe and able to get a head start on a new life.
I do not regret helping any of these people but now that I am older I look back I realize what dangerous situations I put my family in at times.
John’s mother passed away six- months earlier. John was still grieving and so was I. John and I met and married shortly before his mother became ill. Kathleen was the first elderly person I ever lived with and the first elderly person I ever provided with hands on care. I spent a lot of time with my grandmother, giving her rides to see her doctor and to pick up groceries and such. She never seemed that elderly to me. Once she started to fail my mother and aunts placed her in an assisted living facility. She went down hill quickly.
I was older now with adult children who were married with children of their own. John’s son was grown. For the first time in our young marriage, we lived alone. We were just getting used to our newly found freedom. We discussed traveling, home renovation projects and retiring.
When I went downstairs, in the morning there she was dressed in her dirty clothes, ripped plastic grocery bags full of I have no idea what and a filthy overstuffed pocketbook with a broken strap. She was just sitting on the end of the sofa. The pajamas, underwear and socks I gave her folded neatly beside her. My first thought was, I could not believe she put on dirty underwear. I cringed. My second thought was she must have been a beautiful woman. Her hair was pure white not that dingy grey most of us are stuck with. It was so long. I wondered if she colored it. It was so beautiful compared to the filthy stringy mess it had been last night, before her bath.
I made her a cup of hot tea and some oatmeal for breakfast. I wanted to say to her stay here in our nice warm house for the day. I also did not want to say stay here in our nice warm clean house. John and I were both working from nine a.m until nine p.m. I could not help but think it was possible she could clean out our house in twelve hours and God forbid let all kinds of other ‘scary’ people know where we live. I felt guilty for feeling that way.
John agreed to drop her off at ‘her’ McDonalds. He told her he would come by the McDonalds at nine-thirty that night and if she were still there, he would bring her home with him again. She smiled and gathered up her grocery bags. John told her she could leave what she did not need and it would be safe but she flatly refused. I could not even imagine what was in those bags.
John shot a begging glance over at me. Of course, she could spend the night with us, again. It was freezing outside. What else would I say, especially in front of, Sophie? I secretly did hope she would not be there. I hoped a family member would find her and take her home with them, where she belonged. That was a good thought, a guilt free kind of thought.
John must have sensed my discomfort. He laughed at me the night before when I locked our bedroom door, quietly so Sophie would not hear the click. He told me she would never hurt anyone, especially not us. My husband tried to convince me she crossed his path again for a reason. He reminded me how kind she was kind to him all those years ago when his life was shattered. How could I argue with that?
At work that day, I made a list of places I could contact in order to possibly, get some help for Sophie. In our County, Delaware County, Pennsylvania, just south of Philadelphia, there is an organization that assists the aging called, COSA [Office of Services for the aging.]I put the department of welfare on the list, social security and our congressional representative at the time was Joe Sestak. I also listed Catholic social services.
I was off the next day so I decided if Sophie did come home with John, I would spend the day finding and getting Sophie settled into a new home. It was a good way to do some good, I thought to myself. I usually spent my days off writing, visiting my kids and of course cleaning, doing laundry and shopping. Helping Sophie would be a nice diversion.
