Mom

My mom insisted on living independently. She wanted to live in the two-story house she and my dad built in the 70s, despite the fact that dad has been gone since 2016 and that house is far too much for her. Her care providers all kept telling us she was competent and there was nothing wrong with her making her own choices, despite our lifetime of knowledge of our mother, our love for her, and our desire that she be safe. 

So...she chose. 

She chose to be independent through her recovery from triple bypass surgery...independent while caring for diabetic wounds that wouldn't heal...independent while recovering from leg amputation...independent dealing with all the everyday activities that get harder and harder for us all as we age. She chose not to have professional in-home care. She wanted to be alone. People applauded this "independence" despite any concerns to the contrary. "She's tough...stubborn," they said, as if it was something that would protect her in her physically fragile state. 

And then she had a stroke and fell on the bathroom floor (or fell and had a stroke...we do not know the order of things). 

"She's so strong...she's so independent!" became "She was all alone!? Where were you children!?" Suddenly those very same independent choices people applauded became a condemnation of us...the people who literally begged her to choose otherwise (I want to physically fight everyone who says, "I'm so sad about your mom.") 

And mom...

She literally can't see...or remember. 

And there are no more real choices to be had. 

Because she laid on the bathroom floor alone for too long. Because she didn't get help soon enough. She is here...but not really. Now she really is alone...even when we are in the same room. 

From her hospital bed, she said to me, "I never thought this would happen to me." And I smile all the while I want to scream at her. WE knew. WE tried to get her to see this very possibility. But we were left with NO choice because she was beyond reason and made foolish...selfish...choices. 

I'm SO SO SO SO ANGRY about it. I'm SO SO SO SO ANGRY at her. And I'm SO SO SO SO SAD. I feel like she stole from us all. The pleasure of her company. The warmth of her heart. Her killer sense of humor. The light in her eyes. What remains is a fraction of what she could have had. 

And once again I come to this space (that I know she hasn't read in a very long time...that I know she CAN'T read now) to put "it" somewhere safe. To once again mourn what might have been...to let go of a life that only existed in my dreams. 

Later I'll go visit and she'll tell me the same stories two or three times...and I'll force a smile. And tomorrow we'll celebrate Mother's Day in the best way we can figure out how to do in this new normal. 

Because it is what it is and, as I've already learned all to well, there is no turning back time. 

But if anyone reads this...if you take nothing else from here, please take this advice...

Do not do this to your family...to the people that love you. Listen to them and respect them enough to really hear their concerns. You don't have to live in fear...you don't have to give up your independence entirely. But at least be realistic and put some plans in place to at least give yourself a fighting chance that your golden years will be golden...rather than filled with pain and sadness.