I have to tell you that finding One Kenton Place was assisted by our consultant, Debbie Gilbert, who accompanied me on that first visit to meet you. A lot of the positive qualities she observed were also very evident to me as well. A few months after my mother came to live at One Kenton Place, Debbie emailed me to get my feedback, saying “Your mother is my first client to have moved to One Kenton. Although your mother has not been in the home for very long, would you recommend One Kenton to others?” My answer after a few months is the same as it would be now, looking back with the benefit of hindsight. That answer is an unequivocal yes.

People expecting perfection will always be disappointed. One Kenton Place is not my mother’s condo. The staff are not her family. The food? It’s not her cooking. Perfection is a subjective quality, and as with beauty, it depends on the eye of the beholder. Honest answers? My mother’s condo, although her home, was not suitable or safe for her to live anymore, with her dementia. The staff versus family? As a family, we could not provide the care my mother required. Full-time caregivers in my mother’s condo could not provide the quality of care she required. Your staff could. Food? Your chart on my mother will show that she gained weight while at One Kenton Place. It was not her own cooking (or that of caregivers under her direction), but she was losing weight and she was not thriving while at home.

So what is perfection? It isn’t always maintaining the status quo, often done by families out of guilt or misguided senses of familiarity being the only option. My mother had safety, social interaction, three healthy meals a day, and an environment where the staff understood what dementia does to an individual, and they provided care appropriately. After a few years of sleeping with one eye (and ear) open, waiting for a midnight call from a caregiver, or from Lifeline when my mother was alone, I had complete peace of mind while my mother was at One Kenton Place. Perfection? There’s no such thing. But my mother’s situation in your facility’s care was the best choice available to us as a family.

I’m not sure how much of my mother’s true self was able to be conveyed by her presence at One Kenton Place, due to her cognitive decline. I know that some of the more difficult aspects came through, as is likely natural with such a transition. My mother had a wonderful sense of humour – all the more surprising from a woman who was sent to Auschwitz as a 12 year old girl, and who lost her parents, two siblings, grandparents, friends, etc. I know in my visits with her that she still maintained some of that humour. My memories of those visits are not of my mother in an institutional setting – they are of my mother finding the humour in being asked to do arts and crafts, something she usually despised, but which she accepted and did as part of the social community at One Kenton Place. Even when she had a delusion of being visited by a male resident at night, and though she was pregnant because she was gaining weight – my mother was able to talk about that with me, and to see the humour in even a serious situation. My mother was, in many ways, much more herself while living at One Kenton Place than she had been at home in those last few years.

When I emptied out her room after she passed away, I found a sheet of paper in her dresser drawer. I’m attaching a copy for your consideration. I don’t know when during her time with you that this was done, but it put a smile on my face. My mother was one of the most intellectually accomplished individuals anyone could meet. Her trajectory in life was dictated by her experiences during the war, and the reality of the refugee/orphan experience coming to Canada in 1948 at age 16. She completed Grade 10 and then had to work to survive. She learned a new language, and by the time she met my father in 1955, she was working as the executive assistant to the vice-president of Dominion Tar (now Domtar) in Montreal. Her shorthand and typing were flawless. Her accounting/bookkeeping skills were flawless. She would stay up at night doing the Sunday New York Times crossword puzzle, occasionally calling me for help on a clue (usually after she’d driven my father crazy asking him). She took adult education courses at University of Toronto and at Ryerson when she was in her 60’s, and attended courses at the Bernard Betel Centre into her 80’s. She set a very high standard for herself, and for her family, but she always did that with humour, compassion and love.

So to see that even with her Alzheimer’s, she did a pretty good job on the list of proverbs that I’ve attached, well, that just told me that she was thriving at One Kenton Place. She was in her element when she saw a challenge in front of her. And I know that she likely had a good laugh when shown some of the mistakes – she was always able to laugh at herself.

I’m sorry to ramble, but I hope you understand why. It isn’t always easy to see our successes, especially when we work in fields that presuppose serving those with problems. Nobody comes to see a litigation lawyer because of good things. Nobody goes into One Kenton Place because they are entirely healthy and independent. We deal with the vulnerable, the needy and the suffering. It’s not always easy to see the good that we achieve against that backdrop. Sometimes it is very discouraging. But then every so often we see things very clearly, and it re-invigorates our belief in what we do. I’m hopeful that sharing a bit about my mother, and one family member’s perceptions of her experience with you, does what it is intended to do.

I’m firmly convinced that my mother’s experience at One Kenton Place allowed her to be herself again, and it allowed me, as her son, to feel comforted in that knowledge. Sincerely,