Amy, in Shaker Heights

My parents live in an assisted living facility. The administration early on prudently and wisely instituted an increasingly stringent set of rules designed to keep the residents and staff safe.

It began with stopping all visitation and progressed to closing the dining room, removing furniture from the lobby and activity rooms and taking daily temperatures. These measures, while essential, have contributed to feelings of anxiety and depression for the residents, especially my mother.

On March 27th, my mother turned 90. There was a luncheon planned at a local restaurant the next day for 20 some people including my older son and daughter-in-law who had flights here from Atlanta. When it became clear that that was not going to happen, I needed to come up with plan B.

My sister met me in the parking lot where we held up a Happy Birthday banner and sang Happy Birthday to my mother who looked out from their apartment window. It was both incredibly sad and joyful at the same time.

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