She's my mother

Christmas, 2014

Change and grief tend to produce powerful reflections. I certainly wade into deep water!

Some of my greatest reflecting and contemplating happens in the middle of the night. Tonight — or more accurately, today — I got up at 12:20 a.m. because I heard through the monitor my mom calling out and crying.

I found her in the middle of another anxiety attack, which have increased the last two days. I know she knows deep in her heart what's happening to my dad right now. She knows he's in the hospital. She knows he has cancer, and she knows he is dying.

She calls out for him, and she frequently wails, "I don't want Dad to die."

Mom's grief for my dad has become more apparent and open as the days go by.

Tonight, though, my mom cried and kept expressing, "I wish I could have given ..." "I wish I ... " "I wanted to ..."

And she named names of family members. It was as if she were expressing regret that she could not fulfill her former role as the family giver and caretaker. It dawned on me, once again, that part of my mother's grief in the middle of all this turmoil has been for her former self — her identity.

This breaks my heart, and once again tonight, I silently cried for all my mom has lost.

My mom has dedicated 55 years of her life to taking care of my dad, and I do mean taking care of him. She has loyally stood by his side, supported him, loved him and, yes, guided him. She is a major influence and force behind the man we love. She's kind of like the assistant coach, plus the team's manager, plus the owner.

She also has dedicated and sacrificed 50 years of her life to being a mother. While raising Kim and me, and before her perfect grandchildren came along, we filled the other half of her life. Everything she did revolved around us: Our activities, our needs, our wants, our safety and our wellbeing. Everything. She gave so much for us, much more than we realized at the time.

She also ran our family household; she cooked, cleaned, paid the bills and earned a good chunk of the family income as a teacher, librarian and technology instructor.

She is the reason my peers teased me for having a large vocabulary at a young age. :-) She is the reason I made good grades. She is the reason I survived being a coach's kid. She is the reason for so many other good and positive things in my life.

And she did all of this through some truly difficult, difficult times.


When I grew up to make some rather ungraceful and poor choices that severely disappointed her, she loved me anyway.

Before you think I've placed her on a pedestal, don't. We had our differences, and we criticized each other. We bickered, and we got on each others' nerves. But without saying it — because neither of us were demonstrative or vocal about affection — we still understood the love existed.

As the stroke has completely changed our relationship dynamics, I have embraced my new role as caregiver. I have enjoyed showing her love. I can tell her I love her, and she can tell me she loves me; it is no longer awkward.  She touches my face and tells me good things about me. I am grateful beyond words for this blessing.

So tonight as my mom cried, I comforted her back to sleep by reassuring her of everything she has done for all of us through the years — that she is a wonderful, kind, giving person who clearly put us first. I told her she more than did her job as a parent and grandparent. She has served above and beyond her call of duty. I reassured her of our appreciation for her.

Perhaps most important, I reminded her of our gratitude that she is still with us and able to share her sweet spirit with us. As I've told her before, "You spent your life taking care of everyone else. Now it's our turn to take care of you."

While I wouldn't wish this situation on anyone, and I don't like my mom to suffer and grieve, I am forever grateful for this most beautiful blessing from God: The new and whole, loving relationship.

Once again, God has demonstrated to me that "All things work together for the good of those who love the Lord, who are called according to his purpose." — Romans 8:28 (Emphasis mine.)

And I know without a doubt that in spite of this pain we feel, everything else will be and is okay, too.