Memories cover the wounds of reality and soften the harsh glare of the present. She embraced my life, made it incredible by her sacrifice, and also made all of my attempts look feeble in comparison to the mountains she silently moved. A woman who had already raised 2 children was starting over with a newborn at 39 when she should have been starting to live life again free of all restraint. Yet, as a milestone birthday approaches, I am reminded that at this very age my mom was anticipating my birth. A hectic schedule keeps the dark thoughts away I guess and forces me to do more with my life than just pass through it. I am growing my dairy goat herd, trying to start my own business, I switched jobs, and I am in the middle of moving to my own farm. I have not written here for a while because I am coming to terms with all of this and scrambling to make more of my life than I had been. I catch ghosts of memories out of the corner of my mind in every place we ever visited together and try to reach out for more only to be reminded that those carefree days are over. I see her in the back yard hanging up the wash with sun bleached clothespins on a bright summer day. I see her out in the garden pulling weeds, an open garden full of flowers growing in profusion amid flawless vegetables and long stemmed raspberry bushes. I drive around my old hometown and the surrounding area trying to recall images of when I was a child and Mom was Mom. The remorse comes from the realization that at my age, Mom had already accomplished more than I will ever dream of doing in my entire life time and I never took the time to appreciate her as much as I should have.Įvery time I punch in the code number to exit her new home I feel a pang, a desire to turn around and snatch her up and take her with me to my farm where I am convinced the fresh air and goat milk would snap her out of this illness. Seeing my mother in this state humbles me, saddens me, and makes me feel like there is a hollow pit in my stomach and in my heart. Part of Mom lives on in those flashes of indelible spirit and we all laugh at the memories it imparts. Mom weighs as much as a sparrow’s feather now and is just as frail yet she has moments where superhuman strength takes over her body and she leaves all of us shaking our heads in wonder. The Parkinson’s Dementia she has been diagnosed with has taken a horrible toll upon a woman who I always considered the foundation and the glue holding our family together. A couple of weeks ago I was visiting my mom at the nursing home in which she now resides.
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