Don't you just hate it when someone says, "You always have a choice!" It's one of those adages that can make you want to smack them on the side of the head. But, the reality is that you do. We don't always want to hear it, though, but we realize the options are there, whether we want to see them or not.
The other day, in the LBD support group I attend once a month, I was discussing Mom's decline. One of the attendees offered her condolences and asked if I found myself at odds when with Mom. I had to respond with a resounding, "No!"
Not that her decline isn't concerning, nor that her issues seem to be growing, but it's something I find myself enjoying, to a degree.
Mom was never an easy, lovey-dovey type. She could be harsh, cold, calculating, and spiteful, even when there was no cause. There were also the times of the opposite. Yes, there were times when she could be agreeable, and we did have wonderful vacations and good times, but I doubt any of us could dispute she was never the type of mother you'd run to in times of hurt.
Yet, now, she's quite a sweet, mostly agreeable sort. The roles we play have reversed, and, although there are times, she makes for a mostly delightful time. Albeit she can't always find the words, and there is confusion in her thinking (to the point where you have to be on your toes mentally to get to where she is), there is a pattern she follows and a method she appreciates.
There are days when I wonder if I really should go see her, but then when I do there she is hungry for attention and adventure. A simple walk can do it for her, now, and there's nothing better than to tire her out!
And her expression when she gets any form of ice cream. Priceless.
I suppose that, now, the choice is whether or not to weep over the life that seems to be lost in the vessel that was once her or to celebrate her life as it is and has progressed.
I'll have to choose the latter as it marks a new beginning in her relationship with us all; however short-lived it is.
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| Mom with her siblings (l-r Peter, Mom, Larry, Suzie) April 1984 |
The other day, in the LBD support group I attend once a month, I was discussing Mom's decline. One of the attendees offered her condolences and asked if I found myself at odds when with Mom. I had to respond with a resounding, "No!"
Not that her decline isn't concerning, nor that her issues seem to be growing, but it's something I find myself enjoying, to a degree.
Mom was never an easy, lovey-dovey type. She could be harsh, cold, calculating, and spiteful, even when there was no cause. There were also the times of the opposite. Yes, there were times when she could be agreeable, and we did have wonderful vacations and good times, but I doubt any of us could dispute she was never the type of mother you'd run to in times of hurt.
Yet, now, she's quite a sweet, mostly agreeable sort. The roles we play have reversed, and, although there are times, she makes for a mostly delightful time. Albeit she can't always find the words, and there is confusion in her thinking (to the point where you have to be on your toes mentally to get to where she is), there is a pattern she follows and a method she appreciates.
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| Mom feeling swanky in 1966 |
There are days when I wonder if I really should go see her, but then when I do there she is hungry for attention and adventure. A simple walk can do it for her, now, and there's nothing better than to tire her out!
And her expression when she gets any form of ice cream. Priceless.
I suppose that, now, the choice is whether or not to weep over the life that seems to be lost in the vessel that was once her or to celebrate her life as it is and has progressed.
I'll have to choose the latter as it marks a new beginning in her relationship with us all; however short-lived it is.
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