Saturday, November 26, 2016

Perspective

I remember at high school graduation, my long-distance boyfriend had driven down for the event, and we had a relationship-ending disagreement.  I remember standing on the front porch in the dark, crying my eyes out.  And Daddy held onto me and said "you try too hard."

I think Daddy was right.

All my life, in just about everything I've done, I try too hard.
I care too much.
I want too much.
I love too much.


I'm spending some serious time with my mother now, aiding her rehabilitation from that devastating injury, and she is angry with me.  She fights against me.  Because I make her do what the therapists want her to do.   The walker that she despises is now a permanent part of her life.  It is problematic because her home is not ADA compliant - the doors are too narrow.  Ditto the closets, the pantry, and the bathrooms.

As long as I'm here with her, she is fairly safe.  But when my time here is done (3 more weeks), we are going to have to look long and hard at a permanent solution for her.  She is too independent for a nursing home, but I'm not sure how we could pay for an assisted living facility.

There are many questions I cannot answer at this time.  I can only focus on the jobs I'm doing:  HR job accommodation that allows me to work remotely, half days, until Dec 9, and the more important job of taking care of her.

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Edited for updates

She  took another fall, one that will change her living circumstances permanently.  My sisters and I are playing round-robin staying with her at the hospital, and frantically trying to figure out where she will go from there.  The options are slim, and grim.

She sews in her sleep....  matching the edges of sheet and blanket with eyes closed, tilting her head, saying quite clearly to "turn on that light".... and moving the invisible needle deftly along the seam line.

I've been feeling horribly guilty that I was not able to do anything about this accident; I was with her, yet she stubbornly refused to ask for help.  That choice is on her, but dealing with the consequences is on us.

The writing is on hold while I juggle my job and my responsibilities.  There are no holiday preparations, no feasting, no gift-buying.  There is only this.
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I dreamed of flying last night - soaring effortlessly through the night sky, with my mother beside me, wings outstretched and bliss on her face.  She will be free soon, and her spirit will fly home.

Stretch your wings, Mama.  Catch the wind & soar!  Fly....



1 comment:

  1. What a lovely dream. I doubt your mom is angry with you so much as angry with her life. I think we all fear losing our independence. My mom took my grandmother to live with her and I'm certain I would happily have taken either of my parents to live with me. But not everyone can cope with that. Neither would have been happy to lose their own homes. Pooled resources generally make a lot of sense, but sharing your personal space can be tricky. Whatever decisions you make, This Too Shall Pass. I'll be thinking of you.

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