You can pretty much guarantee that when I’m silent it is because I am reflecting on things and waiting for some sort of germination of my thoughts, something suitable to post to the public. Grab your coffee and join me for a while, won’t you?
One of my favorite songs of all time is Ripples, by Genesis. This is from their Trick of the Tail album that was released sometime in the 1970s. It’s a song of love, relationships, beauty, aging, and to me, even death. But it could be death of a love or relationship, death of a feeling, or death of a person. It’s totally open to interpretation.
This song to me is so poignant that I cry every time I hear it. Particularly now.
I’m sandwiched between watching the new life of my nearly two year old granddaughter (who is back living with me, just her, by the way but that’s a story for a different day) and watching my mother live out her “golden years”.
I am the observer. The caretaker. The nanny and the nurse.
My granddaughter is exploring all things new, learning expressions, testing out words, movements, behaviors, and tasting everything that there is to savor about her life ahead. It’s fascinating. It’s entertaining.
My mother is reflecting on her life and experiencing new things as she becomes less and less able to care for herself. Her mind is sharp, clear, but forgetful. (Aren’t we all at times?) She reflects on nursery rhymes she once knew, songs she sang or that we sang together as a family when I was young, and retelling funny dreams to me. It’s equally as fascinating and often entertaining.
Somewhere in there, in that swirling vortex of caretaking for others, my self appears and feelings surface. It usually happens early in the morning when I wake up and my granddaughter is not yet awake. Like now. In the silence of my home, surrounded only by the snoring of the pups, the purring of the cats in my ears, and the squeaks of my granddaughter on the baby monitor as she wakes up, I cry. I cry with gratitude for being able to be alert and present through all of this. I cry because I’m honored that God has placed me in a position of trust with these two souls – that I am the one who gets to take care of them. I am entrusted with their well being. I take my job seriously.
I cry for what has been and what will be. I cry for what is right now.
I reflect on the days when I raised my girls alone, as a single mom, feeling the ache of loneliness and the burden of responsibility at such a young age and with no family support surrounding me. I vow to hopefully guide my daughter – the mother of my granddaughter – down a different path with her daughter, as a single mom, and hopefully give her the support and wisdom I felt I never had. I cry for the mistakes I’ve made with both my daughters, yet I smile when I remember the fun times we did have together as our little family unit grew up.
I think (but do not dwell) on what lies ahead for my mom, and ultimately for me and the rest of my family. We are 49 days into the new year, and of those days, my mom has spent 14 days in the hospital. That’s nearly one-third of the year, so far. And for every day she has been in a hospital bed, I have been by her side, talking to doctors, updating my brothers and my daughters, putting my brothers on stand-by to fly out here should circumstances change, advocating for my mother’s comfort, her care, and trying to find out what is in store for her future, if anyone even knows. Really, only God knows. Eventually she will be gone. She is my angel. I pray I have a lot – a LOT- more time with her, but I know that is probably not reality. So, I cry.
I pause occasionally in the midst of my caretaking, like now, and try to refocus and celebrate the moments that I have right now. The moments pass quickly and they “go to the other side” never to be lived again as they just were. I want to remember them. I want to burn the laughter, the joy, the sadness, the stress, the anger, the worry, the fear, the hope, all the emotions into the craters of my brain and soul. I don’t ever want to forget what I’m feeling or doing now. I want to enjoy every second that I have with my mother, particularly. I have set aside doing much of anything for myself. I’m trying to correct that, but it’s hard. I get a few moments here and there, maybe a trip to the mall for new shoes or an hour for dinner with a friend. Sleep is not deep, rejuvenating, nor long.
I am energized by knowing this is not a permanent state of my life, if that makes sense. Knowing that this too shall pass gives me strength and determination to put one foot in front of another and keep doing the next indicated thing. Love is my engine, yet I have no idea of the destination, other than forward. And that’s okay.
Today is a good day. Today I will play with my granddaughter until my daughter arrives to take over her care. Today I will get some work done so I can have money to keep living in my house. Today I will spend time with my mom and possibly, if she’s feeling up to it, take her to dinner at one of her favorite restaurants after taking her to get her a manicure and pedicure. We will smile and laugh and maybe just enjoy the peaceful silence between the two of us.
I am looking forward to today. With that said, here’s the song by Genesis for your enjoyment.
Tagged as:
Genesis,
life,
music,
reflections
