When my mom has a good day I can see things differently.
I can feel relief and see that all any of us want is for our
people to be comfortable, comforted, safe and happy.
When I got down to her eye level today, three different
times, the look in her eye softened and she said
I love you. I love you so much.
(that is more like her)
She said
Don’t ever stop. Keep going.
She said
God has been good to me.
This she said after she was fed and sitting by the Christmas
tree with those soft bulbs of light all colory around her. With a blanket on
and the kids around fixing their snowboards loudly and talking. She felt safe,
in the loud, with the old rug on the floor we’ve had since I was a kid. With her
feet on the floor our feet were on, and belonging to a family. That seems like
a small thing but that’s no small thing. Belonging might be everything. We’re
not a god family, strictly, we’re god-curious, but I did feel seeing her little
body in that big chair poppa used to sit in, I felt like she was right. You are
definitely at some point at the mercy of god, and of the people around you. You
are powerless and in other people’s hands. I’m not sure you think much about
that or the gravity of that, I think we all think we’ll never need anyone. You’d
have to be stupid to count on anyone. Right?
God’s been good to her, because she loved me and made a
million mistakes, but not enough to stop me from giving her this tidal wave of
love to ride out. I didn’t mind feeding her and tucking her in tonight like she
did for years for me when I was cute and little. I felt like it is all this big
square dance and we keep switching partners, first you dance then I dance, and
it’s kind of funny and the clothes are cool and unexpected, and you never end
up where you start even though it’s a square. You kind of end up on all the
sides at once, with all the lines blurred. I think that’s the way it looks when
you’ve done everything right.
Tonight I saw that her brain has holes in it, and she’s
confused why she can’t get her legs to move, so all her energy comes out in her
hands, she can still use those. She can still hold an apple and she’s still
hanging on to doorways. She still hates to be moved, but she trusts us. We are
still building a relationship even while god is dismantling her.
She is still in her eyes, and when she’s able to be herself
it is such a relief.
I was cleaning up while she was in bed with music on and I
kissed her goodnight and she said you gonna sit with me? Like we were up late
at camp. So I sat with her because she asked me to she could ask.
Then I said I was gonna wash my hair and she said you want me to help?
I love that even though she can’t stand or get to the
bathroom she was still there for me, positively. Still my mom at heart. Who needs
a body.
When she has a hard day, then I feel Dirk nearby telling me
it’s going to be okay. I tell mom in her cheek that we’ll always be together.
How, she asks.
I panic because I don’t know she’s the one who’s closer to
knowing any of this. But not today. I guess we’ll just know. The hardest part
is when she’s just sitting on the toilet and looking at me totally clearly and
saying something is wrong. I don’t want her to feel lost. We want our people to
feel only peace.
I’m going to think of her comfortable in that chair, and being happy today. She looked right at me.
She said, with pure unfiltered eyes
you are beautiful.
Look at those eyes.
That face.
I'm so happy.
