From the Heart
As I have walked the halls of the assisted living residence, where my mother now lives, I have recognized the faces of people with whom I grew up. I also recognize the worry and the stress on their faces.
I know that look of worry and stress very well. I also understand their guilt.
We are part of a club we never imagined joining.
We all share similar stories. Our parents needed to be in a safe place. Our parents had to accept a new normal, just as we did. None of us like this new normal.
We, as their children, have had to make choices we never imagined making. We know that the choices are the right ones, just not easy ones.
A good day is when the good times are expressed more than the times where they are struggling. It is never an easy day … for our parents or us.
I never realized what caretakers go through. I never realized how it would be so overwhelming.
When your mother holds your hand and begs to go home. When you must tell her that it’s not safe to be in her home alone. When you wipe tears of guilt. When you look in the mirror and appear to have aged 10 years in just a few short weeks.
This part of my story is hard. I’ve struggled on whether to share it but after the response from my column last week I felt I needed to do so.
I love my mother. I want her safe. I want her happy. I want her young and able to walk again. If only…
All I can do is hold tightly to her and tell her I love her. I worry about the someday when … and I wipe more tears.
This. Is. Hard.