Wow. It seemed so far away, and here we are... almost.
I will get on a plane, in two days, to take my mom to my brother's house in Albuquerque. And then... poof ... she's gone. I'm free of the responsibility. I go home a couple days later. Home to ... NOT having to go visit, NOT having to pick up Ensure and yogurt. NOT having to check her clocks every few days. NOT having to plan my day around when I can manage an hour or so to sit, possibly knit, and visit .... about nothing. And everything.
I surprised myself today.
My mother has, for YEARS, said she needs to have "a big cry". Even when my father died, in 1993, I don't believe she deeply cried. She has trouble with emotions. But I think she aches to cry, to express the emotion that she wants to feel. She talks a lot about "the bit cry".
Today, as we packed up the contents of her rooms, we looked at each other, and talked about our impending separation and she talked about the 'big cry'.
And I started to tear up.
It surprised me. I have had such conflicted emotions about my mother. Anger, resentment, tenderness, sadness, impatience. Is it love? I honestly don't know.. or haven't been able to say.
The last few weeks have been filled with logistics. Arrange for legal transfers. Change addresses. Open new accounts, close old accounts. Pick up my brother at the airport at 2:30. Rent the truck at 3:30. Call the helpers about when we're arriving at the apartment. Go to apartment. Pack truck. Disconnect phone. So, I've been playing Project Manager these last weeks.
Then ... this afternoon ... the tears almost came. Welled up. Subsided.
But it's about time. Tomorrow, my brother leaves at dawn with the truck. My sister arrives with her family midday. We hang out ... and Saturday (day after tomorrow) we leave for the flight to Albuquerque. I will stay to get her settled for a couple of days, then return home. Free.
But between now and then, I know I will cry. And that's a gift. I thought that my ability to cry about/for my mother was robbed of me, robbed by my anger and pain. I will have the gift of tears, the gift of being able to mourn. Because only with mourning can we move to that time that is beyond the mourning - days of peace, of (in time) knowing what's next.
When I was 17, I left home three days after graduating high school. And I sobbed for hours. I cried for things I didn't even know, wasn't even aware of. Just blindly sobbing.
Now, finally, almost 45 years later, I will cry. And I will understand why. What a gift. Something I can own, emotion that finally can allow me to grieve, and then ... break free.
My story of caring for my mother as she goes into Assisted Living... what it does to her, to me, to my siblings, to my family.
Mom and me
Blogroll
- ChangingAging Blogstream (highlights and links to many blogs focusing on elder care)
- Life With Father (touching blog about a man's life with his aging father)
- The New Old Age - a blog from NY Times
- Kick Boxing in a Wonderbra (great blog!)
- Living Wills - excellent NPR program about living wills
- As Our Parents Age (great facts and helpful resources)
- What To Do The Next Time Dad's Heart Stops by Richard Knox (on NPR)
Posts
5 comments:
You've talked about the guilt you felt/feel. Do you think the tears will be part of that? Knowing you are doing the right thing for her and for you, but also feeling you are divesting yourself of... something. I don't know. You're sharing a responsibility, not shirking it. I'm starting to get that drowning feeling you spoke of earlier, so I really appreciate your story, how you un-drown yourself, how you deal with it all.
Thanks as always, Robin, for your thoughts. It means a lot to hear a response that always makes me think deeply. Great phrase - sharing vs shirking. I'm chewing on that...
And I'm sorry you're starting to get the drowning feeling. There is hope, but please take care of yourself.
Re my mother's move (today!) I honestly don't think there is much - if any - guilt in my tears. I feel regret - regret that we couldn't have enjoyed a normal mother/daughter relationship throughout my life. Sadness for her that she feels so crappy and weak all the time, and sad for all the things she is emotionally unable to be. Grief that I will lose the closeness of the relationship we've had these last years.
... and knowing that it is very likely that I will not see her alive again.
But I also feel very content with what I have given her, my own sacrifices. I have given all I can, for more than five years. I left my job four years ago, in significant part, to support her. I walk away from this responsibility, caring for her, with my head held high. I know I gave ALL I could.
And, in addition to the tears, I am feeling profound relief. Happiness to have (almost) completed this effort and to be able to move to our next stage of life. And even a bit of giddiness .... lightness .... eagerness to see what's next!
Nancy
You gave more than enough, more than plenty, especially having to walk away from a job. That affects your future. I'm surprised by the number of people who are sacrificing their futures to take care of an elder now, with no guarantee (and in some cases no hope) for someone to be there for them.
How did the move go? Perhaps your mother will be more at peace now, since you two didn't have the best relationship. I know my mother would prefer my sister who is here, or the one who is two states away, to be her primary caregiver, and to have me drop in every so often!
And I know you will find your own move fulfilling.
HI! the move went well, though exhausting for us both. I was up in the middle of the night scribbling some notes for a post I'd like to do - once I can get a little perspective, and, time to write it.
She will be content there, I believe. At least, as content as she can be.
More in the next few days, OK? Thanks again.
To cry. What a gift, indeed. I find your phrasing so helpful, and you are really the angel for your mom. I know, I know, you don't feel that way. But, know that the tenderness you have shown, and the anger you have shared, are all part of who we have become as adult children. None of which detracts from doing the absolute right thing for our aging parents - makes it hard to be the better person and do what HAS to be done, yes. But, you found an outlet, and I think you have a gift for this work. I hope you can continue the writing work with others, showing the way to "get it out" so they can still do the RIGHT things. Workshops, Nancy! Maybe there will be a chance in the next stage of life in the South!
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