| I just need to put the feelings to a pattern of words to get it out into the universe. I am feeling so very sad and at a loss as to what the purpose of ... well the reason for .. well just why on earth?!? Mom was acting poorly yesterday at HP and was ultimately taken to WGH, and ultimately, after examination by the Mental Health Worker from the state, sent, again, to Sedro-Woolley for 72 hours, involuntarily. I spent about 7-8 hours sitting with Mom, by her bed, yesterday until she was taken by ambulance to Sedro-Woolley. That time was intense, and so much more than I have had the opportunity or time to since she lived with me. But this was really taking care of her, and staring at her, and sharing words, and kisses, and smiles and so intimate. I don't mean just helping her to go to the bathroom, or dressing her, I mean intimate in a larger way, that encompasses it, but includes examining every pore, and bruise, and seeing how her skin hangs from her fore-arm with the weight she lost. Seeing her face practically skeletal while at sleep. Watching her speak in her sleep, and her feet move, and her hands moving moving, it was more intimate, more close, more incredibly communicating than other times I've been with her. Waching her eat, and how she explores the tastes of each dish, or the way she no longer is afraid of some food that may hit the tray, food that before would have been "soiled", that she now picks up and ingests. Holding her hand as she slept. Her talking and charming the nurses and doctors. Her beneficient smile when she awoke between naps and found my face right next to her, as it morphed into a big smile. Our love murmurs and kisses. Her teasing Gordy, who teased her, who she teased who.... It was an intimacy of a depth that the actions of the day can't explain. The looks. The interaction. The trust she had that she gave me, to care for her, to allow her to eat the food, or sleep and snore so deeply. It was sort of like having a conversation and having Mom "back" again. It lingers so deeply on a cellular level inside me that when I close my eyes, I think she's sleeping next to me, or she loves me, or she's "Mom". I am so lost and afraid and grieve and mourn the truth of Mom's current degree of Alzheimer's and her level of health, and her inability to articulate. I so deeply want my Mommy, and, despite all the therapy educating me that I have always wanted my Mommy, and she wasn't there for me the way I needed a Mother to be, that I was there to meet her needs, nonetheless, I Want My Mommy. I guess I am grateful that there was some sort of osmosis, or exchange of feelings, the reinforcement of the umbilical cord, but it also just hurts so damn much as I know that the future she faces, we face, is not one of successes, but of loss. I hurt so badly and my heart is breaking into shards; the love is not enough to make her whole or feel well, or protect her. She'll only know my betrayal, my failure to rescue her, each visit that I say good bye and leave her calling my name, protesting my leaving without her, again. I love her so much, and she only knows what I can't give her -- I can't make it better, or transport us to a different time and place, one when we were all a family unit, and life was to be lived, not feared or endured. One where success was not measured by minutes overcome and passed through without harm (this time). My Mother is beautiful and funny, and has a twinkle in her eye, and can charm and enchant, even at those times when she's scared and disoriented and no one and no place is familiar or recognizable. She still can work her magical spells, where everyone falls in love with her, yet again. ##
|
