How Special is a Mother

Dear Donna, at Funky Junk Interiors blog, wrote the most elegant, classy post dedicated to her mom, whom she just lost on Tuesday.  I was so shocked to read it that, I had to read the first paragraph twice before comprehending what she was saying.  What a lovely, classy lady, I don't know if I would be able to post so soon. I really admire her for her strength.

Her words made me cry.  Because I know that my own frail, weak mom is getting worse. And she won't let me help her.  I know that very soon I am going to have to step in, and by force and tears, get some information from her physicians that I need to know.  She wants to keep her life private and will simply hang up on me if she doesn't like the conversation. 

Please don't misunderstand, she's a little doll, she's just so private.  She watched me fight for my father before he died, for the 5-years he was hospitalized, after a stroke which left him paralyzed (the man he was at the end was not the man he was; so I was compelled to assist in his care, as was she).  She didn't always like the way I went about it.  She wants people to like her and be her friend.  My interactions with that awful staff were not friendly.  It took a meeting with the top administrator, along with Edgar who has an MPH (Masters, Public Health), to have a nurse removed from "caring" for him. 

I think what is truly saddening for me is that there are so many unresolved issues of things that happened long ago, which haunt me daily.  I've read something that I am trying to focus on during this time:  "Eventually you have to decide which memories to keep...and which to let go".  I can't recall the author, but I know it is really been a blessing to me.  I've hinted, perhaps, at a very turbulent childhood; there was much toxicity at my house.  This, of course, is what I must make peace with.  It was my mother who was abused, and that is the cause of many of her physical issues today.  She has forgiven; and while I like to believe that I have, the memories are raw to me and I have anger cursing through my veins.  I have read that one goes one of two ways: they become complacent and possibly abused themselves, or extremely angry. 

Donna's storey made me sad because I know the time is coming.  How I have wished to give my mom something to make up for her horrible life.  Sadly, it is been pointed out to me that she must see my father in me, although I fight for her.  I thank God this Easter that I have some time with her.  Edgar, his daughter Julia, who arrives at 1:00am Friday morning from NYC, and I will spend Easter with her.  My mom adores Julia (who just turned 18-years-old in February! Before I age myself, I must add that Edgar is 10-years my senior!).  I'm hoping that with all of us there, she will feel safe enough to allow me to begin helping her with her life.

If your dear mother is still with you, give her a big hug this Easter! ;)