Monday, October 24, 2011

Back to Our Regularly Scheduled Program

Denial is when we think we can set aside old issues and build a new relationship with our parents. We tell ourselves that things will be different this time, that our parents have changed. What we're denying is our own feelings, perhaps anger or abandonment or betrayal. We're also denying the very real possibility that nothing has changed, that our parents will be just as they always were.


This quote from Eleanor Cade's book is permanently posted in my sidebar. I know it is truth. I know it is truth, and still I get sucked in to the hope of a different relationship with my mother. I don't know what my deal is. I really should know the sitch by now. Maybe I should read my own blog? Anyway.

As Gayle's time here with Mom drew to a close, Gayle started talking with Mom about letting me come to stay with her, or at least come in to fix her lunch. She reminded Mom of how much Mom enjoyed having her food prepared and served, and how she really hadn't been up to much activity. Mom protested that she had just "been lazy" while Gayle was visiting. As if to prove her point, on Saturday Mom scrubbed the kitchen floor. By hand.


Then after lunch, Mom insisted on washing dishes, something she hadn't done all week. By the time she sat in the red chair for a rest before dinner, Mom was really worked up. She kept telling Gayle, "Gwen is so controlling! She's just so controlling." Gayle said she kept coming back to it. "Gwen is so controlling!"

I'm sure that as an adult child caring for an aging parent, this shouldn't bother me. I know Mom is horrified at the thought of losing more independence. It is not new information that she wants to go out on her own terms. But it does bother me. A lot. Mom's words, as related to me by Gayle, really cut me to the quick. Why do a parent's words hold so much sway, even over their adult children? Are we forever looking for the blessing? I won't provide a link to the song that's playing in my head, because it would seem melodramatic. I'm heartsick.

Gayle left Sunday morning early. She is a road warrior in her Prius, driving straight through 13 hours to St. Louis. I saw Mom at church Sunday morning. I went over today to make some financial arrangements as requested. I did not linger and Mom did not invite me to stay. The hospice nurse will visit tomorrow and Loren will arrive late Wednesday night. He will stay for about a week and Ruth will come some time in November.

Me? I feel very, very done. I will help when Mom requests it, but I am done with checking, planning, anticipating, facilitating, coordinating. Done. I am now going to enjoy the blissful state of "Mom says she's fine."

2 comments:

  1. She is like a child. When your child tells you to go away, you give them some space and come back and try again. You will return when she needs you and has the wind knocked out of her sails. Like the Runaway Bunny, even though she is trying to escape, you will keep after her, because she is your mother. When she is bedridden and there is no more getting up to "do" she will finally come to grips with her mortality. Then will be the time for forgiveness and these foolish things will be covered over with love.

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