I feel like this has been the longest weekend of the century. The euphoria from my first book signing was overshadowed as my mother bucks the idea of a nighttime caregiver. You see, I am currently the parent of a 89-year-old woman with a three year old attitude. It was her idea, but the concept of having someone in the home while she sleeps is too much change. She used all of her skill sets to get her way. These include emotional blackmail, crying, along with trying, but unsuccessfully manipulating her daytime caregivers to do her bidding. She is a formidable opponent, but I am better. Tough love, friends. This is what it looks like. For forty-eight hours, our conversations resembled circles. I was dizzy from uttering the same words over and over again. It was insanity. It was emotional. This is what transitioning an aging loved one looks like.
The beautiful outcome to all of this is I don’t do this alone. Ever. I have friends that have already walked this path that will share their experience, strength and hope with me. My spouse went over twice this weekend to act as a buffer which was very helpful as my mother adores him. And while each day offers another challenge, she has been somewhat compliant the last twenty-four hours, after she finally took some of my suggestions. I am tired, but the promises that were made to her early on were that we would do our best to keep her in her own home, and that is what I am aiming to deliver.
It’s messy. I am no where near doing this perfect. I stumble, but I always try to continue to do the next right thing. And even though this dark cloud is lingering, I could still enjoy the feeling that I had at my first book signing COVID style. The tremendous pride and overwhelming love I felt from each person that came. It was a bit surreal.
This is life. It is a series of ebbs and flows. My lesson is learning how to balance, which can be hard when life feels like standing on a hammock. The things that are occurring are happening for me, not to me. Lessons in the making that sometimes feel like punishments.
This is where the art of being grateful comes into play. During this transitioning her to 24-hour care, I finished my second book and send it to my editor for its first round of edits. Her Turn, is doing well, and a local store is selling it. Things are progressing and I am simply a passenger in the car. Trusting the process is hard to do, but so a far, I have been pretty impressed by the outcome.