Another Day
I am sad today. I did not call my Mother over the weekend. She is in a nursing home and has pretty much given up on life. She’s an angry, bitter woman and it takes a lot of emotional strength for me to get through a phone call with her. I just didn’t have that strength this weekend. Quite frankly, I don’t know when I’ll find it again.
You see, I want her pain to end. I want my pain to end. I am racked with guilt over wanting my Mother to die. I feel like the most selfish, spoiled brat on the planet. Who in the world wishes such things? I must be a monster.
I consider myself a compassionate, empathetic, caring person. I try to see the good in all people and I genuinely care about other people’s well-being. Why can I not translate that compassion to my Mother? “Well, because it’s your Mother”, says the voice inside my head. This one’s personal. It’s not the homeless man you pass everyday on the street. It’s not the ad you see on TV for hungry children. IT’S YOUR MOTHER!
So, where do I go from here? I continue to pray but my faith wanes as the weeks pass on. There have been moments when I know God has been with me. There have been moments where the love was there and it was beautiful. But, I did not think she would live this long. I was not (am not) prepared for her to live in this state for the next several months, even years. How can I do it? It is unbearable, the pain, the anguish, the dread and the sadness. That’s the truth for her and for me. I know she dreads her days, the pain she suffers and the sadness she endures. Why?
I will never know the true reason why we are going through this while I am of this earth. I think I’ll only truly understand once I’m on the other side. I know that when I am, it will be pure joy and she will be there and all will be forgiven.
You see, I want her pain to end. I want my pain to end. I am racked with guilt over wanting my Mother to die. I feel like the most selfish, spoiled brat on the planet. Who in the world wishes such things? I must be a monster.
I consider myself a compassionate, empathetic, caring person. I try to see the good in all people and I genuinely care about other people’s well-being. Why can I not translate that compassion to my Mother? “Well, because it’s your Mother”, says the voice inside my head. This one’s personal. It’s not the homeless man you pass everyday on the street. It’s not the ad you see on TV for hungry children. IT’S YOUR MOTHER!
So, where do I go from here? I continue to pray but my faith wanes as the weeks pass on. There have been moments when I know God has been with me. There have been moments where the love was there and it was beautiful. But, I did not think she would live this long. I was not (am not) prepared for her to live in this state for the next several months, even years. How can I do it? It is unbearable, the pain, the anguish, the dread and the sadness. That’s the truth for her and for me. I know she dreads her days, the pain she suffers and the sadness she endures. Why?
I will never know the true reason why we are going through this while I am of this earth. I think I’ll only truly understand once I’m on the other side. I know that when I am, it will be pure joy and she will be there and all will be forgiven.
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