The Ones Left Behind

Nursing homes are no strange place to me. Up until a few years ago, I would spend occasional weekends touring central Illinois bouncing from nursing home to nursing home. Consequently, as I read the first few chapters of Albert Camus' Stranger, I could not help but empathize with the other residents as Meursault visited for his mother's vigil.

Meursault does not dwell on his mother's death long; he hardly even thinks about it. I believe that Meursault's reaction is certainly less visceral than most, but it is still true that the families of nursing home residents seldom give them as much thought as they maybe should. In recent years, nursing home neglect by staff has become a highly scrutinized issue, but neglect by the families may even have an even more dangerous affect. 

My 101 year-old great grandmother is the oldest of three sisters, all of which were some of the most interesting personalities I have ever met. Sadly, two of them have passed away, but in their later years, my family and I would visit them in their nursing homes. It was always nice to see them, but I would be lying if I said it never seemed like a chore. 

Regardless of how tedious it seemed at the time, spending that time in that setting revealed to me how valuable simple human connection can be, especially to people that may not get it as much. Even though it seemed like a minimal task to me, spending a few hours with them, to them it was a major event. I had the opportunity to play piano for them, and event they would talk to my parents about for months after. So, for me to see Meursault so far detached from his mother makes me sad for her condition, and I wish that he could have done more.