Tag Archive | aging

Mother’s Day

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How do I make the day special for my mom, for whom I sacrifice so much? My own daughter is miles away, being pampered by her children, under her husband’s guidance. It feels like every day is Mother’s Day for my mom. She has meals delivered almost every day, by the two people closest to her, physically and emotionally. Her mail is brought in from the box, set in front of her at the table. Trash is emptied, recycle taken out, batteries replaced, bills paid, surveys answered.

What would it take to make the day different than every other day? Candy? Flowers? Does a beautiful card make the day special?

Is it necessary to make a big deal out of a day that makes florist’s do the happy dance? What would make it special for me is to spend a few hours with my daughter. No candy, flowers, silly balloons. Just time to walk, chat, grab a coffee. With no demands from her kids. Yes, I love my grandchildren to pieces, but I loved my daughter first.

My first born, my miracle, my pride and joy. The ‘good child.’

I don’t need a fake holiday to feel valued as a mother. I already am. I’m loved, valued, and I love and value in return. From my grandmother down to my youngest granddaughter, we have a legacy of caring, loving, and strong women. I don’t need Hallmark to tell me so.

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Freedom lost

Every human responds differently to loss. Some are stoic, stiff-upper-lip. Others break down in weeping and gnashing of teeth. I find myself settling into a pity party of epic proportions. “Nothing is good about my life,” I lament. “I never get a break.”
I’ve been caring for my 89-year old mother, who was recently released from a convalescent hospital. My freedom to come and go has been severely curtailed. I feel like a caged bird. I’m grieving over the loss of my independence, loss of time, money, energy. I’m grieving over my mother’s loss of the same things. I carry her loss like another brick that I must drag behind me.
How do you respond to loss? Do you kick and scream against the unfairness of life? Are you stoic, bending slowly under each additional burden? Or do you rejoice in suffering, know that it produces perseverance?