Words said in anger wrapped with spite can be cruel and feel like a slap across the face. But what of words never said? I think they can be just as hurtful. When I was growing up my parents believed that if they acknowledged our accomplishments then we would become soft and not develop into hard-working adults. Looking back on those years, I can tell you that theory doesn’t hold much water. With vivid feelings of longing I recall striving to hear the words from my parents that would let me know they thought I was doing well. When the words didn’t come a hole began to creep inside my self-confidence. In the end I went through most of my life thinking I was sub par, nothing special. In high school I was a member of the first girl’s basketball team. Mom came to one game. I was involved in the school plays, Dad never showed. I pulled the float in our homecoming parade. Not even a word of advice from them as to how I should do it.
I know my parent’s loved me, I’m sure they even told me that. My parents demonstrated their love with providing for us even when times were difficult. They always managed to bring the family an amazing Christmas. Birthdays we were singled out for the day and were allowed to choose the dinner menu and what kind of cake we wanted. I know these actions were symbols of their love. Yet, just once, I wanted to hear the words that would let me know they thought I was amazing and they were grateful I was their child. The only time I remember my mother saying I love you and me, feeling she actually meant it was a few months before she passed away from dementia. She looked me directly in the eye and said “I love you, Rosemary” and then smiled. It was a rare moment of cognizance. Tears still fill my eyes when I recall that snapshot of time that I had waited for most of my life.
I don’t normally make New Year’s resolutions. But, this year I intend to make an exception. I have been traveling down the road of change in my life; the 55 year mark has made me stop and evaluate. With those evaluations I have come to some conclusions. I have decided that I will tell my loved ones just that, I love you. But, I also intend to demonstrate that love with gratitude for their actions and for just being who they are. I’ve been wondering, do I thank my husband enough or like my parents let him go with the assumption gratitude is there? I am going to work on changing that. I have two adult daughters and it is obvious they do not need me on a daily basis anymore. Still, I think, more thank you’s need to come their way. I’ll start with sending notes of gratitude; perhaps for taking time out of their day to spend it with me, perhaps for coming over for dinner, maybe sharing a laugh. I want to emphasize that the small gestures are just as important as the large and any gesture that brings a bright spot deserves recognition. And so, I have started. It isn’t easy. Sometimes it can be days later that I remember, wait that was a special moment and I need to be thankful for that. Other times I slide too easily into taking my husband for granted. I have to remind myself that words are powerful and when used to express gratitude or love can be a gift we give to others.
relationships
Prologue In the spring of 2007 my widowed
Prologue
I have been absent from my Blog for a while. In this away period I have been working on editing my book in between the call of my daily life. I am including the prologue to my book, a work in progress.
In the spring of 2007 my widowed mother left her place of birth and a lifetime of living in Indiana and moved to my home in Upstate New York. It had been apparent to me and my siblings for some time that Mom was struggling to live on her own. But, my mother’s independent streak and her fierce Irish-German stubbornness did not allow her to leave her residence of fifty years easily.
When Mom moved in with my family and me, I thought she was still grieving the death of my father, her husband of over fifty years. I had learned Mom no longer participated in the activities she once enjoyed; she rarely ventured out of her home. All signs of depression I assumed. Naively, I believed that once Mom came to live with me she would find a new direction in life from the love my family would give her. I hoped that my relationship with Mom would evolve into the nurturing, mother-daughter connection I had sought for years. Yet, after only a few short weeks it became quite apparent all of my assumptions were completely wrong.
Learning my mother had dementia, although not truly shocking, was not the ending I had in mind for our story together. Eventually, during the six years that she lived with or near me we did develop a new relationship. One I had not considered, but, still based on trust and love. Getting to that final rapport took years of struggle between us. In the beginning it was who is the child; who is the parent? Later, that trust was required to let a loving bond blossom into total faith that decisions made on her behalf were for the best.
My emotional journey also sparked a transition of my faith. My feelings about established religion had been evolving for several years. Soon after Mom moved in with me, I stopped my rare attendance at mass. My choice had nothing to do with my mother. Rather, it was a decision that had been growing within me. I felt more in touch with my idea of God when I was out in nature, or doing an activity with my friends or family. Mass became a ritual that I dreaded and consequently attained nothing from. Yet, the more involved I got with Mom’s care, the more aware I became of an inner voice guiding me. I am by character a non-confrontational person. Still, as I heard myself questioning doctors, working with insurance companies, dealing with family members and lawyers, I found the words coming from my lips sometimes were not my own. I had not thought to say them, yet there they were being said. I began to call my inner guidance my Angels. It was through this realization that my spirituality grew and I connected with these higher beings that were sent to guide and comfort me. I believe it was my Angels who first directed me to begin writing.
I did not write my thoughts down immediately upon my mother’s arrival. It was only after many months that the need to release my growing frustrations began to take shape. I joined a writing group at a local book store because I felt driven by my inner sense, what I call my Angels, to put my feelings into written word. During my first session I met a group of ladies and we formed a lasting bond that strengthened as we each transformed into writers. It was this group and our instructor that gave me the courage to record my feelings. Even then, I did not believe I would take my thoughts and turn them into the book that follows. As my writing developed, I realized my essays could be a comfort to those walking zombie like through the days of unknown dementia care and decisions as I was. Consequently, I continued in my pursuit of finishing this book not only for myself but for others who would walk down the path my mother had taken me. I hope it will bring them comfort and the knowledge they are not alone in their struggles.
To do justice to the 85 year life my mother led I have given you, the reader, a brief history of Mom’s life. I felt that was important so that you too can understand the sorrow I felt in watching this woman, who accomplished so much, slide into nothing.
The essays written about the journey Mom and I took together fall in chronological order. It is my hope that you will garner some camaraderie from my honesty, frustration, laughter, unexpected hurt and overall grief. This book is for all of us struggling together in what I call, The Caretaker Nation.
Changing My World
“When you’re done with this world, you know the next is up to you.” John Mayer
It has been a year since my mother passed away; Twelve months of me reclaiming my life. Although, I’m not sure reclaiming would be the correct term. Instead, I think I am rebuilding my new world. That is why John Mayer’s words resonate with me. The end of my era as my mother’s guardian also coincides with the end of my era as a full-time mother. My husband and I have successfully encouraged our daughters to grow their own wings and leave the nest feeling confident in their lives ahead. Kudos to us. So, the next is up to me. Where do I go from here?
The good news is I can make my choices based on over a half century of living. I certainly have life experiences, and I plan on using them to make, what I hope, are wise decisions. My husband and I live a good life in suburbia. We have enough to enjoy pursuing the activities we like to do. Because we have accomplished this goal, personal happiness is my next biggest objective.
That desire is encumbered with the many heartrending aspects I have in my life involving those I love. Friends and family, who have joy sucking circumstances they are facing. The kind that leave you searching for sunshine even when it is sparkling through your window. I realize that, especially as we mature, my situation is not unique; how I go about living my life, that is what is exclusive to me. I want to be there for those I love and support, a hand to hold, the one who listens without judgment. But, it is also my wish to be able to share some happiness with them. I want to encourage a new thought process, to not dwell on the injustice, if you will, of their lives. Instead I would like to concentrate on the bright spots in life, the obvious and more importantly, the simple wonders of everyday. I want them to feel, we are in this together.
Part of finding my new world is discovering what makes me happy, my purpose in life. Writing, I know, is definitely on the list. My part-time teaching job brings me joy, as I travel from school to school bringing a field trip to classrooms with The Scotia-Glenville Traveling Children’s Museum. I love both of these aspects of my life’s journey. I also appreciate the fact I don’t have to worry about a generous income from either.
Realizing these thoughts, I have decided to practice the art of listening to my feelings and wants. At times, putting my needs in front of others. Something, we as woman or perhaps parents, don’t always get to do as we raise our families or care for others. I have found my needs are not far from where I have been, they have just increased in their importance. Spending time with friends and my sisters is one of the most important aspects of my life. Sometimes, I have to travel to do that, but I am growing more accustomed to the idea that the cost can be outweighed by the joy the trip brings. After all, what can bring more pleasure to your soul than hearing the laughter of those you love, or feeling the comfort of a much needed hug? I am also working on having a more adult relationship with my grown daughters. All involved must change our thought process to include a more give and take relationship. Not the one that served us well as they grew, of parent giving and the child taking. This course of action will take time but I am willing to wait for the fruition of my efforts to develop.
I have learned many lessons during my 54 years of life experiences. My journey has taught me that I will gain friends and lose them. But, more importantly, to hold onto the lessons I learn from those experiences. I hope I taught my daughters the self-strength and compassion it takes to care for your mother as she slides into the nothing of dementia. I know with the leadership of my sister I have gained a new spiritual strength; learning how to accept the guidance of both earth angels and heavenly ones. Building and constantly working on a relationship with my husband is still a continual part of my life. Together we have experienced the exhilaration of holding a tightly blanket wrapped newborn, and the daunting task of helping her grow to adulthood. I have come to understand that some of the most important relationships in life are the ones with your sisters, whether they are related to you by blood or by experience. The love and companionship of those women have, over the years, given me the courage, strength and self-confidence to continue to move forward with my life.
My next world is up to me, and I am determined to make it happy. I hope to find the positive even in a negative situation. I promise to continue to build my self-confidence and make choices based on my wants. I have realized that sometimes putting yourself first, in the end, can be beneficial to those around you. I have come to relish the bliss it brings me to watch myself accomplish goals I have recently set for myself. It gives me the strength I need, to in turn wash my friends and family with the waves of my happiness. I hope it brightens even a part of their day.
Confessions of an Empty Nester
I heard the door close shut for the last time as my daughter carried her suitcase to her car and drove away. Actually, I really didn’t hear the door close because I wasn’t home. We would say our goodbyes later. But, the way my emotions were going, I swear I heard that door slowly squeak shut when she texted she was getting into her car and leaving her childhood home.
Having my youngest daughter, a recent Purdue University graduate, live at home for a few months had been difficult for all involved. She was miserable and my husband and I bounced between trying to make her happy and hoping she would decide to leave so all of us could go back to whatever we thought was our normal lives. Yet, hugging my daughter goodbye as she set out on an adventure before heading to law school in the fall, I had mixed emotions. I knew this arrangement would be better for her; she needed to get out on her own. But, I was sad that our time together was over and quite honestly, I never felt like we got to enjoy it.
The other reality was the fact that my husband and I were now true empty nesters. We had dabbled in it for a few years. There were long stretches of just he and I as our daughters attended college many states and miles from home. Still, we knew the girls would come back for periods of time. We had the holidays with them, moments during the summer. Now, here we were with two vacant bedrooms in need of a paint job.
My husband and I are very social and we often find plenty to do on the weekends. But, I wonder, do we still maintain the same goals in life? I know for a fact we disagree on the purchase of a second home. What else lies between us and seems unsolvable? Can we proceed down our current path, both of us questioning if we agree on how to live out the next years of our lives? Will we live up to our wedding song words?
“Though the binding cracks and the pages start to yellow, I’ll be in love with you.”
Dan Fogelberg
Because of these differences, I have wondered lately, what keeps some marriages together, after the children leave, and why do others fall apart? I understand there are marriages that were just not meant to be and breaking up makes the most sense. Then, there are the couples who seem to have drifted away from each other but remain living together. Maybe it is the tiring thought of starting over that keeps a number of couples together. There are overwhelming questions. Who gets to keep the friends? How do we split up holidays with our children and with the hoped for grandchildren? How do I go forward from here, can the future alone be better? Consequently, maybe staying is easier.
Or possibly, staying as a couple is because of desires that go beyond boredom and monetary items. There is the anticipated warmth of a grandchild as they snuggle into your lap; the dream of once again seeing the belief in a child’s eyes at the thought of Santa. Quiet talks with daughters on how their lives are going. Being there for their triumphs and holding their hand when life throws a curve ball. Perhaps, as an aging couple these welcoming thoughts draw us together and allow us to continue a relationship over a quarter century old. Maybe it is too difficult to throw out all of those past life experiences that we have walked down and sometimes stumbled through. Memories can inflict a powerful hold, ones that give the heart an opportunity to cling to the thought of more good times to come. I have recollections that allow me to remain hopeful of a future together with a guy I sometimes find stubborn, withdrawn and grumpy. A husband I don’t always understand. As we move forward on our journey together a thought has occurred to me. I need, during those difficult moments, to learn to step back and allow my heart to search the caverns of its memory to a time when the anticipation of seeing him made it beat like crazy.
Rosemary Christle-Renaud 