Thursday, March 14, 2013
COMING TOGETHER--15
Today we had a crisis. The carpet cleaners came in, and they have a solution that takes 6 hours to dry. My mother said she wanted us to go to a hotel for the night. She didn't want to walk in the carpet until tomorrow. I refused to go. She hated me for that. She told me she hated me for making her eat breakfast. She said she'd tell everyone what a mean man I am.
So she tried to go to sleep in the kitchen until tomorrow when she'll let herself walk on the carpet. But it didn't work. She slept for an hour, then woke up and told me she was going for a walk. As I write this, she is off walking.
We may not get along well from now on. I know I have to make her eat breakfast but she will scheme something. She will scheme something while she is walking.
I suppose this was inevitable. We never got along, really. She always said I've wasted my life. She's always said she didn't like anything I was interested in. And I think I have begun to lose patience with her. We will have to create some sort of settled divide.
My mother is home now from her walk. She had to cut it short, sneezing and coughing with the pollen from the trees. She seems more reasonable but now she's sleeping in her chair. I think I need to spend less time with her, at the least.
Maybe this will blow over.
I played a big band cd on my laptop and that seemed to break the ice. Gradually she has warmed up and begun to speak to me. She will have to walk on the cleaned carpet to get her things for the hotel! Ha! But she knows that. Now she is preparing to spend the night in a hotel.
I won't be with her--unless something happens.
COMING TOGETHER--14
My brother's wife came over to take my mother out to lunch. They're like two cats fighting. They argue over who will pay, they keep accounts against each other--'No, I'll pay, no I'll pay'...and this goes on and on. They both think throwing money around makes them superior to the other. Two controlling women at each other.
Neither one seems to have any notion of forgiveness or love. Neither one of them seems to have any notion of being unselfish.
So I just left them to their stupid fighting. I went away to do some jogging and throw the baseball around a field.
But if I don't forgive them for them being who they are, I would be just like them. I wish my family could actually be a family, not just a forced group standing there, arguing, trying to be superior, being fools.
All of this has made me realize the wisdom of getting away from the past. My sister Nancy got away from here. She married a man who was not anything like her father, she got away from Texas and she has not returned. I wish I had done that, gone somewhere else, been someone else. But it's too late for that.
My brother's wife came over to take my mother out to lunch. They're like two cats fighting. They argue over who will pay, they keep accounts against each other--'No, I'll pay, no I'll pay'...and this goes on and on. They both think throwing money around makes them superior to the other. Two controlling women at each other.
Neither one seems to have any notion of forgiveness or love. Neither one of them seems to have any notion of being unselfish.
So I just left them to their stupid fighting. I went away to do some jogging and throw the baseball around a field.
But if I don't forgive them for them being who they are, I would be just like them. I wish my family could actually be a family, not just a forced group standing there, arguing, trying to be superior, being fools.
All of this has made me realize the wisdom of getting away from the past. My sister Nancy got away from here. She married a man who was not anything like her father, she got away from Texas and she has not returned. I wish I had done that, gone somewhere else, been someone else. But it's too late for that.
COMING TOGETHER--13
Today went well, in fact, my mother seems to be getting adjusted to getting up and having breakfast. I had my schedule changed today. I went to work at noon, coming home at 8pm.
When I came home, I frightened mom. She forgot I was coming home at 845pm, she thought I was an intruder. Her heart raced, which actually is a good sign. I'll have to call her before I get home. We had some fruit in her kitchen together and she is better now.
Her mind is improving, showing some interest in other things than her usual stuff. She is still up at 9pm at night, and that is good, also.
I have felt great stress. I have felt great fatigue and sleeplessness. I have wondered how long I can go on doing this, living with my mother and taking care of her and me and two cars and two bank accounts and other sruff. I have felt a sense of death and doom, wishing it could lift somehow.
But now I feel better.
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
COMING TOGETHER-12
Today is Sunday. We were supposed to go to church. My mother said she'd get up at 730am, but all she did was turn over to put the alarm clock out of her misery.
I should have known she wasn't going to get up on her own. I got up on 3 hours sleep for no reason.
So I am going to church by myself, which I probably prefer anyway. It is 830am as I write this. The birds are out, the mild sun is upon us in a chilly way, and I am all right. My mother is sleeping, but not really asleep. She is being lazy.
I told her I would not force her out of bed like I did the last few days. My anxiety makes me wish I could get her up before I leave, but I gave my word.
When she heard me open the garage door, she stirred. She did roll out of bed, get dressed and finally we did walk out of the house to church. We were 20 minutes late. I've never been late for church before but we ended up sitting on the front row--kind of exposed to everyone's view!
Actually church went well. I'm glad I went. I'm glad I took my mother.
What have I learned in all this?
That when the end is good, the means don't have to go my way.
God has many routes to the same destination.
My mother is not sleeping all day today. She is in good spirits, and some of my old selfishness is coming out. Today was more about me and my immaturity than about my mother.
Today is Sunday. We were supposed to go to church. My mother said she'd get up at 730am, but all she did was turn over to put the alarm clock out of her misery.
I should have known she wasn't going to get up on her own. I got up on 3 hours sleep for no reason.
So I am going to church by myself, which I probably prefer anyway. It is 830am as I write this. The birds are out, the mild sun is upon us in a chilly way, and I am all right. My mother is sleeping, but not really asleep. She is being lazy.
I told her I would not force her out of bed like I did the last few days. My anxiety makes me wish I could get her up before I leave, but I gave my word.
When she heard me open the garage door, she stirred. She did roll out of bed, get dressed and finally we did walk out of the house to church. We were 20 minutes late. I've never been late for church before but we ended up sitting on the front row--kind of exposed to everyone's view!
Actually church went well. I'm glad I went. I'm glad I took my mother.
What have I learned in all this?
That when the end is good, the means don't have to go my way.
God has many routes to the same destination.
My mother is not sleeping all day today. She is in good spirits, and some of my old selfishness is coming out. Today was more about me and my immaturity than about my mother.
Sunday, March 10, 2013
COMING TOGETHER-12
Today is Sunday. We were supposed to go to church. My mother said she'd get up at 730am, but all she did was turn over to put the alarm clock out of her misery.
I should have known she wasn't going to get up on her own. I got up on 3 hours sleep for no reason.
So I am going to church by myself, which I probably prefer anyway. It is 830am as I write this. The birds are out, the mild sun is upon us in a chilly way, and I am all right. My mother is sleeping, but not really asleep. She is being lazy.
I told her I would not force her out of bed like I did the last few days. My anxiety makes me wish I could get her up before I leave, but I gave my word.
When she heard me open the garage door, she stirred. She did roll out of bed, get dressed and finally we did walk out of the house to church. We were 20 minutes late. I've never been late for church before but we ended up sitting on the front row--kind of exposed to everyone's view!
Actually church went well. I'm glad I went. I'm glad I took my mother.
What have I learned in all this?
That when the end is good, the means don't have to go my way.
God has many routes to the same destination.
My mother is not sleeping all day today. She is in good spirits, and some of my old selfishness is coming out. Today was more about me and my immaturity than about my mother.
Today is Sunday. We were supposed to go to church. My mother said she'd get up at 730am, but all she did was turn over to put the alarm clock out of her misery.
I should have known she wasn't going to get up on her own. I got up on 3 hours sleep for no reason.
So I am going to church by myself, which I probably prefer anyway. It is 830am as I write this. The birds are out, the mild sun is upon us in a chilly way, and I am all right. My mother is sleeping, but not really asleep. She is being lazy.
I told her I would not force her out of bed like I did the last few days. My anxiety makes me wish I could get her up before I leave, but I gave my word.
When she heard me open the garage door, she stirred. She did roll out of bed, get dressed and finally we did walk out of the house to church. We were 20 minutes late. I've never been late for church before but we ended up sitting on the front row--kind of exposed to everyone's view!
Actually church went well. I'm glad I went. I'm glad I took my mother.
What have I learned in all this?
That when the end is good, the means don't have to go my way.
God has many routes to the same destination.
My mother is not sleeping all day today. She is in good spirits, and some of my old selfishness is coming out. Today was more about me and my immaturity than about my mother.
Saturday, March 9, 2013
COMING TOGETHER--11
I have been think about my mother's life and death. Her body is not supporting her own life; she does not get any better when she eats. I am reviving her body once a day and then she slumps again that night.
I wonder if the morning will come when I must decide to revive her or not I do not want that decision; I want God to take her life before that happens. I won't feel morally guilty but it will excavate something from me which will never come back.
It is too close to determining her life and death. And that has sunk my heart. I can't say I am not affected by this. It may be the, you must lose your life to find it. I do not look forward to the morning when I must decide to stop feeding her or stop making her get up.
She may ask me to stop. Should I keep this to myself? Could I ever keep this to me?
Would it a form of death upon me if I did let her go?
I think maybe it is. Attachments are painful, yet they are what we have. The only thing I can think of to alleviate this is God. I have been up this night, staring at the stars, the blank night. I know I have done what is right before now but I don't have what is out there now.
It makes me wonder, in what way I am responsible for what comes tomorrow? Some sort of other responsibility, no doubt. I watch my mother breathe in her bed--like a child, yet at the end of life. A sneaking out, a door closing, a breath ending as it once began 92 years ago.
I have been think about my mother's life and death. Her body is not supporting her own life; she does not get any better when she eats. I am reviving her body once a day and then she slumps again that night.
I wonder if the morning will come when I must decide to revive her or not I do not want that decision; I want God to take her life before that happens. I won't feel morally guilty but it will excavate something from me which will never come back.
It is too close to determining her life and death. And that has sunk my heart. I can't say I am not affected by this. It may be the, you must lose your life to find it. I do not look forward to the morning when I must decide to stop feeding her or stop making her get up.
She may ask me to stop. Should I keep this to myself? Could I ever keep this to me?
Would it a form of death upon me if I did let her go?
I think maybe it is. Attachments are painful, yet they are what we have. The only thing I can think of to alleviate this is God. I have been up this night, staring at the stars, the blank night. I know I have done what is right before now but I don't have what is out there now.
It makes me wonder, in what way I am responsible for what comes tomorrow? Some sort of other responsibility, no doubt. I watch my mother breathe in her bed--like a child, yet at the end of life. A sneaking out, a door closing, a breath ending as it once began 92 years ago.
Sunday, March 3, 2013
COMING TOGETHER--10
It is the next day. We went through the same, 'I don't want to get up,' routine as yesterday. But Mom was not so depressed as yesterday. Once she gets up she is all right.
She does eat slowly, move slowly, think slowly. I have to keep this in mind when I make her get up.
Tomorrow is Sunday. I will go to church and let Mom sleep as long as she wants. I've told her that already. Maybe I should not get her up the way I'm doing now. We will see what happens tomorrow.
Right now Mom is watching some television show that seems like a teenager adventure show. She likes that action, imagining herself as being there, as being that young.
It is the next day. We went through the same, 'I don't want to get up,' routine as yesterday. But Mom was not so depressed as yesterday. Once she gets up she is all right.
She does eat slowly, move slowly, think slowly. I have to keep this in mind when I make her get up.
Tomorrow is Sunday. I will go to church and let Mom sleep as long as she wants. I've told her that already. Maybe I should not get her up the way I'm doing now. We will see what happens tomorrow.
Right now Mom is watching some television show that seems like a teenager adventure show. She likes that action, imagining herself as being there, as being that young.
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