BeeHive Homes of Rowlett

Horrific. Unjust. Debilitating. Devasting. Heartbreaking. When you come to the realization that a terrible disease has progressed to the point that it is no longer sustainable to have the person you have loved since you were 16 years old, the man that has been by your side through the good and the bad for 47 years, live at home. My daughter and I toured several facilities. Nice people, nice surroundings. It was such an emotional process, it took awhile. The last place we looked was The Beehive. Driving up, it appeared to be a small, somewhat unassuming building. Deep breath. I would have to tell the story to someone else. To justify why this choice had been made. Take the tour. Peek into rooms. Hear the sales pitch. Try and hold it together. But it didn’t happen like that. We were met at the door by Sailu. A big hug and a sweet smile. We walked in, and there was this large common area. A smaller area set up with several chairs and tables for meals, and a bigger area with high ceilings, leather recliners, decorated bookshelves, an enormous tv. It was just before Mother’s Day. A flowerfull backdrop and a bench had been set up for picture taking. A celebration had been planned. It was lunchtime. Music was playing. I remember one of the girls who was serving lunch was singing. The story was told, the tour was given. It was different. No pressure. Sailu softly and sweetly saying, “Take your time. It is a big decision. Call anytime. Come back anytime.” We left. As soon as we got in the car, my daughter said “This is my favorite. This feels good.” I felt the same. A few days later, I made the call. We took almost a month to get things ready for moving in. They told us we could do anything we wanted to his room. We painted the walls, hung curtains and shelves and filled them with meaningful decor. Over the course of that month, I began to meet “our girls”. Mesha, the director, who I tearfully told the story to, who grabbed my arms, leaned into me and told me “we are family now and are always here for you”. And I believed it. Destiny, with that big smile, who cried with me and gave me the first of many bear hugs the first time we met. We have been here awhile now. We have added to our family. There is Sharonda with the calming voice. Our sports buddy. She is so very engaged with the residents. Gives such a positive vibe. Meme, always stopping in with a “hey-hey, how’s it going?” . Tracy, so sweet and reassuring, the night time angel that watches over him when he sleeps. Bri, my decorating girl, always teasing, always getting a grin from him, her mischievous smile. Eunic, always greets me with a cheery “hello ma’am!” She is quiet, very authentic, very gentle. Our girls. Yes, our girls. And there are others that I am sure do just as much that I have, as of yet, not gotten to know. Then there is Da’Shun, a.k.a Da-Da, the cook with his immaculate kitchen. A big teddy bear. Quietly in the background. Giving me the smile, letting me know he is always watching over them. I could tell you all about how clean and tidy and shipshape the place always is. Tell you they have exercise time every morning. Get a daily handout of “This day in history”. Play games - Bingo, Guess Who, Plinko, word puzzles, trivia. Have snow cone day and popcorn and a movie. Dance. Sit outside and watch the birds. Invite families to Mother’s Day luncheons and Father’s Day fish fries. Have cookouts on Fourth of July, and all the other activities. But the best thing is, how they are present and caring and empathetic to the residents and their families. It is not a facility, it is home.