THERE IS A SEASON

Yesterday was a sad day for me. Mom is not herself anymore, and the gradual breakdown of her body has crept up on us like a blade of grass in the summer, it grows but you don’t see it until it is time to cut it.

Her whole right side seems to have given up on her, her knee on that side is very weak, causing her to fall, and her right arm and hand do not allow her the freedom she once had. When she stands often she will fall and she went from a cane to a walker to a wheel chair.

I remember Mom when I was a pup, I used to watch her cook, and she had her wedding band on her finger, and as I watched her hands do so much magic, I knew I could pick her hands out in a large group of hands because hers were so special. The gold band was always there for me to identify, and love. Today I see a snarly looking, arthritis invaded hand, distorted by the disease and painful to even imagine.

When her children were growing up and bringing home every disease imaginable, there she stood, rock solid, taking care of us, our shoes polished and lined up on the cast iron stove, the urging to eat our breakfast on a cold winter’s morning, admonishing us about our behavior in school and to our elders. She would cook the most delicious meals, some of which have inspired me to this day to try to re-create. She has a passion for cooking, baking was without saying a specialty, she could knit these most incredible blankets, and is a very talented woman.

There was a special side of her that I always used to keep our relationship warm, the power I had to make her laugh. When she was not doing well because of whatever evil lurked, I would go over to her and talk, and suddenly she would be laughing at me, over my attempts to make her happy once more.

In my last job where I worked for a company, in the afternoon I would close my office door and no one was allowed to disturb me, including my boss. This was so because I would spend the time planning, so no phone calls, no interruptions, no anything. There was a woman who worked in the office pool who had a laugh and used it. Behind my office door she sounded just like mom, and I would pause and soak in the sound. It made me happy.

So yesterday we took her to the emergency room to have the doctors look at her more closely, to see why she is going to the bathroom about 50 times a day at least twice an hour, day and night! We are going to see why there is blood where there should not be any, to try to mend that knee and find a solution to her inability to use her right side.

Oh, we know what is going on, but we owe her every chance there is, every respect due her and we are putting our lives aside to make her last days as best as they can be. I will watch with amazement as she accepts whatever is and what ever will be. I will make attempts to make her laugh one more time, and she will.

I am not feeling sorry for her, nor am I feeling sorry for myself. What is happening is part of life’s process, God’s plan. I just hope to hold mom’s hand as she goes through it, and maybe when it is my turn, I can have her courage, humor and strength and maybe someone will help me through it all too.