Growing Up
The pressure of having an ill family member had been building on me for over 2 weeks over the weekend, but beside having a vein-popping meltdown in the truck in front of my husband Saturday evening I had handled it pretty well.
A writer friend of mine who sends out daily thoughts of the day happened to send this one on Monday: "Life's challenges are not supposed to paralyze you, they're supposed to help you discover who you are." -Bernice Johnson Reagon
As I read that yesterday, after Mom was all settled in and when I was more relaxed and rested than I had been in a while, I realized that is so true. I've been reading books and articles on adult orphans - people who've lost both their parents - for three years now. Trying to prepare for the eventuality of it and I have discovered at least one thing (about myself anyway): There's no way to prepare for it.
There's only coming to terms with it and I finally learned the other day while reading an article on the Internet partly why it is so hard to deal with. The article said that when your mother dies, the person who has reared you and protected you, taught you all of your earliest lessons, you are really finally really an adult on your own in this world.
I've known my husband since I was 15 and he 18. He too, has been there for me now almost since before I can remember.
Before my father died, he accompanied us on most family vacations. It wasn't until we were at least in our mid-20's that we had even taken a trip out of town alone. We had followed his father and step mother down to thier house at the Lake of the Ozarks and at the end of the weekend, our plan was to go to Branson, Missouri for a week alone.
As we turned onto the highway before us, my husband and I looked at each other and I said, "I've never felt so alone in my life. Do you feel it?"
He nodded his head and said, "I guess this means we're really grown ups now."
The challenges surrouding my mother's advancing age and illness has made me discover more about him too, although I didn't know there was anymore I could learn after 27 years.
When I was growing up, my mother told me the story of how great my father was during my grandmother's illness before she died. How he didn't balk when Mom opened up their very small home to her mother when she became chronically ill with COPD. Mom always greatly respected him for that and to me, that was a measure of a great man. During the past three years, my husband has done the same. He's been there for me - even carrying a cell phone when he hates the things! But it's more than that. When I had my meltdown Saturday evening, he took me in his arms while we stood in the driveway and gave me a long hug, reminding me I'm not alone in this. Like that day we turned our car onto that unknown highway toward the adventure of really being on our own in a strange city for the first time, I was reminded that he'll always be there for me. And its always good to be reminded, especially if it involvs a long, strong hug on a very cold night.
A writer friend of mine who sends out daily thoughts of the day happened to send this one on Monday: "Life's challenges are not supposed to paralyze you, they're supposed to help you discover who you are." -Bernice Johnson Reagon
As I read that yesterday, after Mom was all settled in and when I was more relaxed and rested than I had been in a while, I realized that is so true. I've been reading books and articles on adult orphans - people who've lost both their parents - for three years now. Trying to prepare for the eventuality of it and I have discovered at least one thing (about myself anyway): There's no way to prepare for it.
There's only coming to terms with it and I finally learned the other day while reading an article on the Internet partly why it is so hard to deal with. The article said that when your mother dies, the person who has reared you and protected you, taught you all of your earliest lessons, you are really finally really an adult on your own in this world.
I've known my husband since I was 15 and he 18. He too, has been there for me now almost since before I can remember.
Before my father died, he accompanied us on most family vacations. It wasn't until we were at least in our mid-20's that we had even taken a trip out of town alone. We had followed his father and step mother down to thier house at the Lake of the Ozarks and at the end of the weekend, our plan was to go to Branson, Missouri for a week alone.
As we turned onto the highway before us, my husband and I looked at each other and I said, "I've never felt so alone in my life. Do you feel it?"
He nodded his head and said, "I guess this means we're really grown ups now."
The challenges surrouding my mother's advancing age and illness has made me discover more about him too, although I didn't know there was anymore I could learn after 27 years.
When I was growing up, my mother told me the story of how great my father was during my grandmother's illness before she died. How he didn't balk when Mom opened up their very small home to her mother when she became chronically ill with COPD. Mom always greatly respected him for that and to me, that was a measure of a great man. During the past three years, my husband has done the same. He's been there for me - even carrying a cell phone when he hates the things! But it's more than that. When I had my meltdown Saturday evening, he took me in his arms while we stood in the driveway and gave me a long hug, reminding me I'm not alone in this. Like that day we turned our car onto that unknown highway toward the adventure of really being on our own in a strange city for the first time, I was reminded that he'll always be there for me. And its always good to be reminded, especially if it involvs a long, strong hug on a very cold night.
posted by Kerri Fivecoat-Campbell at 5:23 AM
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