Grant me the Serenity

Feeling a little overwhelmed tonight. Got off the phone with my mother, and as I was asking her about some food I'd made yesterday for her, she said, "I can't eat that for breakfast." I mentioned that it isn't breakfast time but eight p.m. She fought me a little and then asked my father who confirmed what time it really is.

Now that scared me. It's so easy for me, who has most of my wits, (well, that's questionable at times), to know the date, day and time. As a matter of fact, and you can ask anyone, I'm like a human time clock. As long as I check the time before my husband and I go somewhere, I usually have a pretty good idea, if asked, of the correct hour, etc. It's something I've always been able to do.

But forgive me, I've gotten off the subject. My stomach is clenched, and I have a tickle of fear in my spine. I wonder if Mom's getting worse. Certainly she is forgetting more and more. And her cooking skills have really faltered. She is repetitive and only speaks of the past. I want to run away, I want to scream, I want....something!

I want my mother, the way she was. I miss calling her and having her ask about my day. I miss the advice given, better than any therapist. I miss her quick wit and humor, and how you couldn't pull the wool over her at all. There was a time a few years back, that I heard a still, small voice inside me as I sat on my back porch on a lovely spring day. It said: Enjoy your mother.  I had a terrible feeling at that time, that what it meant that was Mom would be passing. I had no idea it was her mind that would pass, and with it, all that is dear about her.

Don't get me wrong. I am thrilled to still have her. We can laugh and talk about times past. And though it takes very long to explain anything that is going on in my life right now, I try to find the patience and will to go on each and every day.

God grant me the serenity to accept my mother the way she is. Give me the peace of mind and heart, give me understanding and love. God, watch over your beloved daughter, my mother, and help our family to bond together through this time and give us the knowledge we need to do right by her, and continue to give her dignity as she falters more and more. Thank you Father for the time we've had with her, and keep her safely in your care.

Amen

Someone Was Praying

My heart sports a fragile crack as I look at the face of true love. My parents, Rich and Eileen. Two people who have weathered true storms in their lives. Two people who have beat many odds. Two people who truly know what it means to love one another with all your heart.

My mom grew up in an abusive home. Her father drank and gambled, taking out his frustrations on his wife, who in turn, took out her own frustrations on the children. From an early age, my mother was told she wasn't wanted, she was an accident, a mistake. From an early age, Mom learned what it was like to crave love and not receive it. She would grow into her teen years, the beginnings of depression creeping up on her, food, sometimes her only solace. 

Dad grew up a little differently. Though his father was a drinker, there wasn't any violence in his home, and his mother, my Nonna, was a rock and pillar of strength and goodness. Qualities which would become such a part of my father as well.

Mom and Dad married young, she was only nineteen at the time, and he was twenty-five. That sounds like little kids to me as I look back now. I realize, however, marriage may have been an acceptable escape for my mother, and the handsome man promising a wonderful future, a true knight in shining armor to her.

Abuse and neglect take their toll on a person, and no matter how much love you finally have, they aren't easily shaken. Mom fell into a spiral of mental issues, thoughts that would plague her and shake our family to the very core. Hospitalization would follow, and my father, the rock of our family would remain by his wife's side, loving her gently, caring for me, his little girl, and holding a full time job.

There were times when I, as a child, would wonder if life would ever return to normal. If my mother would return to us whole and well. 

Someone was praying. I never knew this as a little girl, but the power of prayer was working behind the scenes. My grandparents and father prayed. I know there were others praying as well. In my little mind I never understood this concept, couldn't wrap a child's mind around it. Though I eagerly "wished" for good things, God heard it all, and in my early teen years, Mom was restored to us.

Tests of fire would continue in this rock-solid marriage though. Major surgery would befall me, their little girl, as scoliosis ravaged my body. And a late pregnancy would surface, causing one doctor to advise an abortion for my mother, claiming her health was at serious risk. Not one to falter any longer, this brave woman would say, "I'll have this baby, or die trying."

Someone was praying. Once again, God was there. My surgery, though difficult, went well. My brother was born, and Mom remained healthy through it all. Prayer would sustain this family and many good years would follow.

Perhaps nothing is as beautiful as love in the golden years. Once again, as my heart cracks a little more, I am reminded of strong bonds of love. For two people who remained by one another through moments of true catastrophe. Dad would become a heart patient in his retirement years. Several times, we almost lost him. A quadruple bypass and a defib/pacemaker would be a new part of his world.

Someone was praying. This time, it was me. Not only me, but many others as well. But this time, I learned the true, powerful answer of prayer. As I put my trust in God, He never failed us. Dad came through many years of congestive heart failure, hospital visits, and this time, it would be Mom who had to be strong.

And now, the love of almost sixty years of marriage. Dementia, health issues, an old house falling apart. Sometimes never enough money, yet always just enough. Mom's forgetfulness and Dad's health scares. So many things I just want to run and scream sometimes. Just two weeks ago, Mom was in the hospital. As anyone with a loved one suffering from dementia knows, this is devastating to them. A very confusing time. A week later, Dad would be hospitalized. And though it was very difficult, Mom found a way each day to sit by his bedside, waiting, praying, for his return home. Our family bonded together in a major way, and once again, these two people are reunited with one another in the little old home they've shared for so many years.

Love can withstand the test of time. The fires forged, the uphill battles waged and won. Love is everything and so much more. It's gray hair, wrinkles, arthritis and gout. It's pill containers, oxygen tanks, hospital stays and doctor visits. It's seeing the young beauty you once married, the handsome prince he was. It's all of these things. Mostly, it's the love of God, cementing commitment, trust and patience in two people willing to work at it. 

Someone IS praying! Let that someone be you and me. Let's pray for strong marriages, for a love that lasts a lifetime and beyond. Let's pray for resilience and strength, and an eye to see our spouse as they once were: beautiful, young, innocent and good.

Here's to my parents, Rich and Eileen. For all you've both taught me. For all the years of love. I love you both.

The Thief

I find myself thinking about some serious things as I write today's blog. Memories. There have been several people recently in my life who are losing theirs. Some dear loved ones who can't remember certain people, situations or even words. It hurts. It really hurts me seeing these once active people succumbing to the ravages of time and the frailty of their own bodies.

I just got off the phone with a dear aunt, one who I haven't seen in a while. Though she was completely sweet and very happy talking with me, I can see what she's going through. Memory loss. It frightens me, as I see several of my closest relatives even my dear mother as the thoughts fly out of their heads on the wings of forgetfulness. Will that happen to me, I wonder. . .

I've read up on vitamins and such things to stave off the inevitable. And I believe in God's hand through it all. I will not claim this as my own. I do not have to label myself as someone who will surely fall prey to a mind which no longer remembers events or even people.

Walking through a nursing home, I've seen sweet folks with dolls upon their laps, talking with them as if they're a long lost child. What causes this I wonder? And is it a good thing, perhaps, for some who may have gone through such trauma in their lives to put aside the daily worries and cares of this world and live in a fantasy dimension perhaps?

Take the time to love, really love the people in your family, dear aunts, uncles, grandparents and parents, sisters, brothers and good friends. You never know when that robber of the mind may snatch the precious years from you.

 The older I get, I realize I must live in the moment, love in the moment and be kind when words fail a dear loved one. When the questions they ask over and over again begin to agitate me and I feel I can't take it a minute longer. I can choose to be their shining star, the person who will carry them through this rough patch, this difficult journey of the mind.