LEGACY Truly, she didnt relinquish me until a week before her death. As often as I would say, Ma, I am SO tired, I just want to go home, shed ask me to pop in, for just a second. Dutifully, I trudged over and as soon as she saw me shed fling her hand out the side of her wheelchair, as if trying to hook any part of me. I couldnt explain my fatigue and my resentment grew like moss. She fixed her home in accordance with her needs: grab rails, a fridge in her bedroom, a panic button necklace, socks with velcro bottoms and a jar of peanut butter on her bedside table. It was hard to believe how resourceful she was, truly masterful. Once she finally acknowledged her existence was finite she died within ten days. I wanted to haul away the clutter quickly, lugging sorrow out in clunky containers full of glasses that used to be jars and piles of files on appliances and financial data. I didnt know if I could live without her. Naturally, I saved dozens of phone messages which I play on my way home from work occasionally. I see her along the edges of my own behavior; necessary compromises and desired compensation. I understand her battle much better now. Of course I am referencing my own illness that was apparently festering as my mother was departing. She never wanted to miss one single event. I dont feel sacrificed and I realize she just wanted to hold my hand, pulling it towards her heart. There is no script for this scenario, life is script-less. She cherished being significant and fought to be current. Wed drive through the back roads of Swansea and shed declare, That was the house where Susan Daly lived. That family was so rich when Susan and I went to college parties we were driven by her personal chauffeur! Incidentally, Mrs. Daly gave me that pair of sterling grape scissors for a wedding gift. I believe they are tucked inside the Liverpool pitcher. She was epitaph-ing all the time, dropping memory morsels like Saltines. The comparisons are subtle but I find myself feeling quite needy at times. I understand her better, and respect her grand efforts to live fully expectantly. I plan to transform my bedroom into a sanctuary. I would like a desk, also. If I get rid of one bureau I will have the perfect corner for a comfy rocker. I need a little help reaching above the fridge, now. Perhaps the next time someone stops over I shall ask them to grab the crock pot which is adjacent to a stack of cookie tins and behind my Christmas china. I plan to do some cooking soon as the weather is changing quickly. Copyright Stage IV Expression
Posted on: Sun, 12 Oct 2014 23:23:30 +0000
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