Reflections of a Daughter of the Silent Generation and Mother of Generation Y
Just because a person can’t remember, it doesn’t mean they can’t be fully present, trying to make sense of the world around them. I’m grateful Mom was near, where we could help.
—excerpt from Living Is for Living: A Caregiver’s Story
I am thankful that over the years, I found time to write and to express; this outlet helped me later, much of my time spent within our home caring for Mom. As she sat beside me, reading her book, I sat beside her, typing away at my computer, thinking, strategizing, having fun.
—excerpt from Living Is for Living: A Caregiver’s Story
I’m Okay: Stay or go? I don’t know. Them or her? I’m not sure. Where to be? Don’t ask me. Either way, I’m okay.
—excerpt from Living Is for Living: A Caregiver’s Story
“I like to help out where I can… to play Terry’s game,” said Mom when the doctor asked her what she liked to do. Here I thought I was helping her with her life, when what she wanted was to help me with mine. Sounded good to me!
—excerpt from Living Is for Living: A Caregiver’s Story
This is not the time to doubt what you’re capable of – this is the time to believe.
(Written along the way on a scrap of paper and stuck in a book)
—from Living Is for Living: A Caregiver’s Story
With Mom in our home, after decades living apart, we had countless moments at each other’s side. Even when time here on earth with our loved ones feels finite, we can still share infinite moments together.
—excerpt from Living Is for Living: A Caregiver’s Story
Mom and I spent the afternoon at the neuropsychologist’s office. Speaking of honoring women – what a blessing were Mom’s strength, resilience and good humor – it changed everything.
—excerpt from Living Is for Living: A Caregiver’s Story
So many questions asked along the way: “When did forever start?” Who can say? “Do soldiers have God?” I sure hope so. “Will you ever stop loving me?” Never, no.
—excerpt from Living Is for Living: A Caregiver’s Story
You ask me, “What was the baddest thing you ever did?”
Your seven-year-old innocence hanging there, between us in the air.
At first I shrug, where do I begin?
Someday maybe I’ll share…the baddest thing I ever did:
I said yes when I wish I’d said no…loss of me, loss of health, loss of time for my self.
Too ashamed to write down the details here, after all this time, still filled with fear.
Fear, you’ll love me less, if you only knew.
True love of me – a cliché I know, but one that is true.
Too much, too deep, too painful to pass along – even after all this time,
so I hold it all in and I answer you back,
“Oh, I did my share, but the baddest thing I did was not be honest to others,
to say yes when I wish I’d said no.”
Then I ask you back, “What was the baddest thing you ever did?”
You shrug.
Why didn’t I stick with that?
(A poem for our youngest, 2005)
—from Living Is for Living: A Caregiver’s Story
I titled this blog, with our eldest son’s encouragement, the joy of caring.com, intending to care for Mom in a way that helped me stay healthy, sane, and balanced, so that I could be present for this part of her life in a way she would want, that would benefit my spouse and kids, and that made space for joy, too.
—excerpt from Living Is for Living: A Caregiver’s Story
