parents

So many of us are in this time of change.  The time when our parents have become dependent on us, if not financially, then at least logistically.

It happened little by little and then all of a sudden.

I am fortunate, in that my parents have lived full lives.  I know of many friends that wished they had my problem.  They wish their parents were still here.

We don’t get to choose how our parents live.  We only get to choose how we support them, help them, and love them as they age.

I have written on at least a few occasions about my parents.  They were my champions of disharmony.  And, now I am able to love them for it fully.

On top of a very exciting and full plate of activities, my parents are again at a cross roads.

My mom’s Alzheimers is progressing, and the nursing home where we put her in May, and where she was so very happy, has failed to attract any more residents.

She is lonely.

So very, very lonely.

And, the lonelier she gets, the angrier she gets.

It is thanks to the concept of harmony that I am able to feel the sadness, but not confuse it with “wishing things were different”.  I can feel sad for her, and grateful that she is still here to tell me how much she loves me.  I can feel sad for her, and still feel her energy come loudly through the phone.

To me, all of life is an “experiment” and I am fascinated watching my parents grow old.

Harmony begets harmony.  Disharmony begets disharmony.

As my mom loses her ability to reason, there are some core believes in her mind that are anchored in deep.

She loves me.  And, I love her.

Whenever I talk to her, she asks me about 100 times if I am happy.  She tells me how much she loves hearing from me.  I can hear her light up on the other side of the phone.

Whenever I talk to my father, he tells me over and over how nobody calls him.  He tells me how alone he is, and how everyone in his life has left him.  There are slivers of gratitude in my dear papa’s voice, but his anchor is in the wishing sand.

The conversations with my mother are difficult.  It is harder and harder to understand her questions.

We have deliberate and rational conversations about whether my uncle died and then was buried, or whether he was buried and then he died.

She asks me with great clarity if I have brothers.  “No mother, I only had my two sisters, and they both died.”  I say.  “I know, I know, she says, of course I know.  Your sisters are with me right now” she will say, “I just could have swore you had brothers, and I know you were the oldest.”

Momentarily, my heart hurts.

I remember my mother in her strongest days.  I remember looking up at her, strong and beautiful.  It was her drive and spirit that brought us to this new world of the United States.  It was her strength that gave me my initial strength and confidence.

Her world started changing when my sisters died.  She slowly changed.

She has lived a full life.  She has loved more than her share.  She has laughed enough for two lifetimes.  And, she has hurt enough for even more.

I don’t get the sense that she is aware of her memory loss, at least, not to the level that it is actually happening.

It saddens me deeply that she is lonely.

I don’t have any answers for what to do next.  But, I will figure it out.

One thing I do know is that time doesn’t stand still, and her condition doesn’t either.

I am fairly certain that 6 months from now and a year from now she will be more and more confused and lost further and further in her head.

I am ok with all of that.

I just don’t want her to hurt.

I don’t want her to be scared or feel alone.

And, there is only so much of that I will be able to affect.

We can feel emotion without anxiety.

We can feel emotion without wishing that we could control that which we can’t.

We can feel emotion with acceptance and gratitude.

I can feel sad for her loneliness, happy for her love and energy, all while accepting that her illness will continue to take her rationality and be grateful that I am still able to brighten up her day.

I know so many of us are going through varying stages of taking care of our parents.

It is our turn.

I knew this day would come eventually, and I am grateful that I have the financial stability to be able to help, that I have a partner and a business that is extremely caring and flexible to my families needs, and a loving family that supports and understands my need to be there for my parents right now.

I don’t wish my parents hadn’t gotten old… I am glad they have lived to see their grandchildren grow into men.

I don’t wish my parents were in better health… I am glad they both have been active and physically independent until now.

I don’t wish.  PERIOD.

I am grateful for the fact that they brought me to America.

I am grateful for every little bit of it.

And, I am sad that this is the health issue that my mother has to deal with.

Harmony begets harmony,

and in watching my parents,

I learn about the absolute truth of the fact that I am God-willing a few decades from similar deterioration.  It makes me more conscious of enjoying my health and full consciousness now.

I am more conscious of my relationship with my wife and the importance of building the right relationship now, not artificially, but deeply.  I want to anchor my soul in gratitude for her, so that when my brain starts to go, I will hold on intuitively and viscerally to love and connectedness.

I am more conscious of my relationship with my boys, and wanting them to know with confidence, that they are all that I could have ever dreamt off in life, so that when I do get old they are grounded in certainty of their father’s love for them.

I am more conscious of the burden our parents place on us, so that when I work with people who don’t have the freedom or financial means around me, I am more understanding and more sympathetic to the things they must be dealing with in their own situations.

The absolute truth is that we age,

And that if we are fortunate and blessed enough,

We get the opportunity to pay our parents back for having brought us into this world.

We get to show them our love and gratitude in ways that they may not be able to understand or appreciate…

Much like the efforts they placed on us when we were 1 or 2 or 3, during times where we aren’t able to recall their efforts either.

There will be a day, sometime likely sooner than later, when I will miss them not being here. 

And, yes, there will be some relief the day they rest.

And, there will be sadness.

Then and now, there will be gratitude…

Never ever forget the gratitude.

And the thought of her possibly waking up tonight, and looking around, feeling lost, and alone...

hurts my heart.

Yours in harmony,

Nestor