WHEN THERE ARE NO MORE TOMORROWS

WHEN THERE ARE NO MORE TOMORROWS

This blogue is just a journal of my everyday life, both past and present. It tries to give the facts as I remember them yesterday as well as 65 years ago. Sometimes my days are glorious and some days are horrendous, filled with unfortunate events.

As you know, mom is in a rehab center, a place where they are caring for her day and night as she is under their watchful eye. That is a decision my siblings and I made when we signed her in. Originally it was meant to rehab her and then only if it became impossible for her to live alone would the decision with the doctor’s advice would she have to stay there.

As I entered her room I took off my jacket and I could hear her faint voice call me. Moving to the bed I sat on the edge and listened.

“Yesterday, a lady came in and said that you signed papers stating that I am here for the rest of my life! Why did you do that?” The question not only caught me by surprise, it was devastating, leaving me rocked like a knocked–out fighter on the ropes. I tried to gather courage to respond, all the time looking in her eyes, eyes that told me a sad story without words. My stomach was in my throat and chest and fear that she thought I betrayed her swept over me like a dust storm in the desert. A worst feeling about her I can’t remember. A beautiful Italian aria, sung at Christmas time started to go through my head as I started to talk to her, about asking God to forgive me for my sins:

Pietà, Signore,
di me dolente!
Signor, pietà
se a te giunge il mio pregar;
non mi punisca
il tuo rigor.
Meno severi,
clementi ognora,
volgi i tuoi sguardi
sopra di me, sopra di me.

Mercy, Lord,

For my sin!

Lord, have mercy

If you reach my pray;

Do not punish me

By yoursterness.

Be less strict,

Kind, always

Turn your eyes

Above me, above me.

But I didn’t have the time to sing to myself, only to explain myself, to plead that she not cry or think less of me, that if I hurt her, it was with the intent to help her, protect her and worry about her as she has for me all those many years as her child.

“If I have to stay here, I will never feel the daylight or fresh air, never will I be in my home again! I might as well die. No one wants to die.”

I was left with no choice but to be honest, truthful and direct.

“Ma, you were given 96 years, mostly healthy. God has been very good to you. Your grandson didn’t even get two full years; your granddaughter lives in a hell all her own, in a home for people with developmental disabilities, with no chance. I have to live her life for her in the things I can do for the rest of my life. Do you think I want you here? Do you think I like having to come here instead of your home? If you went home Theresa and I would have to split up 24 hours to care for you, as it is I have to come, worry about your finances and write checks, check on your house and live my own life, no I don’t want that for you here.”

Sometimes events can take a piece of you a little at a time, until there is nothing left. It leaves you drained and exhausted, beaten like a red haired mule. That you can roll with the punches for: but when it is a child of yours or your spouse, or your parent, then it is unbearable and too much to take.

I told my mom she is never going home again! How can I do that? I told her she is never leaving the facility she is in now, how do I not just slap her face and curse her instead, isn’t it what I pretty much did anyway?

I know my sisters and I will feel the guilt and the pain. They will be like me: saddened and disturbed. For me all I will remember is her eyes, and the small frail person who once stood so strong over me, guiding me, teaching and even striking me in the right direction. I guess the biggest mistake she made was teaching me to be honest, especially with her, I told her there are no more tomorrows.