Today, this lovely cooler air was blowing through the open windows of our bedroom as I gathered my thoughts. It's been so hot lately that being inside has become quite cumbersome and I'm nearly wishing it were autumn already. I tried to catch a light nap while my husband was attending to the boys and making dinner- but I only slept for mere moments. The combo of deep sadness along with ache of watching a loved one suffer is a nasty mixed concoction not good for anyone to swallow; so too much or not enough sleep at times is a dreadful side effect from this elixir of emotions.
This was yet another almost unbearable day and one I wouldn't have dreamt would be my reality years back. Hospice put together a meeting with family and our mother's nurse, social worker and a chaplain to discuss the progression of this nightmare. I was of course, angry. I didn't go into this meeting with that frame of mind (even though that sentiment has been a bit of a companion for me as of late) it just sort of happened, like a brush of a bug off your shoulder; it felt like a natural reaction when you don't want something there. It was triggered when I saw two of the visitors today outside the front window sharing a quick laugh before entering my parent's home; I then automatically didn't want them there- I wanted to brush them off my shoulder! And so, I closed off and began thinking "This is our life, not just another patient's home- Show some respect!"
I know my feelings are a bit off and jerky sounding- but hey, that's just what I felt at that moment and it was hard to shake. I am aware that all of this isn't exactly the whole truth. As I said before, I am angry most of the time these days....
I'm furious that my mom is going through this. I so wanted to be this graceful example of patience and perceptive -but at this point that is totally impossible for me. I don't understand for one second why this is happening. The thought of why, why, why is an echo in my head 100 times a day. I get that there really are people out there that grieve and/or handle strife with absolute poise and acceptance.....but that's just not me. And I cannot stand this about myself; that I'm not one of those souls that are much more resilient.
And so this afternoon, I am trying to rest lying in the cooler breeze of our bedroom, but I can't because I am going over and over why, why, why is this transpiring? How can such a remarkable person like my mom be dying?! Why is this happening to her? Why oh why does she have to suffer? ....
There are countless songs, smells, holidays, movies, books, lessons, ideas, cookbooks, mountain roads that are all Mom... Mom... Mom. She woke us many a weekend for family highway trips up to the Rocky Mountains. Trees, Red Rocks, monuments, old Opera houses and aged taverns with pictures of a young Baby Doe on the floor all were visited because of a sweet woman who wanted to share colorful Colorado with her babies.
Endless photo albums overflow with memories all made beautiful by her loving and unselfish ways. My mom has always awoke enjoying every single second of daylight and even in her poor health, sits by the window reading her books getting pleasure from the light coming through the window.
Things have progressed with her illness so quickly these past few weeks and I feel time running through my hands .... as I hold hers, stroking her skin. Her dainty soft hands have been damaged beyond repair for chemo's side effects all while she struggles for breath just finishing a sentence- and again, I find myself fighting the anger and trying desperately to hold onto these shadows of happier times gone by.
And again... Why? Why Lord? Why did this have to happen to her? Who or what dishes out the pain? -And why did she have to get so much of it in her lifetime? I know, I know... I'm not the one to judge or try to outline out who gets what in this life...or distinguish how the short end of the stick is truly handed out -I know... I know, I sound like a complete wretch.... But please understand, I'm inside a surreal reality these days and within my maze of painful thoughts, no matter what turn I take, I almost always end up in the same spot smacking up against a wall of anger and asking again, why.
I loathe that I'm forgetting to be mindful and I how I actually and honestly have to stop my silly self to recognize what we have. Even though I lament daily in watching my mother's pain, I stop and uncover through the haze of my anger, the joy in mom's voice this night when I called and she was still there to answer the phone on the other line.... and for a moment I forget to ask why and remember to be in the present with Mom.... Mom.... my dear Mom....
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