Reflections of a Daughter of the Silent Generation and Mother of Generation Y
On retreat with the Chaplaincy Institute of Maine, I took a long walk by myself in the woods. I flopped down in the fresh snow. I lay there, looking up at a tall evergreen that reached up to the blue sky (the blue Mom loved). I breathed in and out, deliberately, five times. It felt so good, I decided to go for ten.
—excerpt from Living Is for Living: A Caregiver’s Story
That Father’s Day, sixteen years since Dad died, I heard him heckle when I missed foul shots, laugh when I threw elbows, and cheer when I backed someone down. When I worried about missed opportunities, I recalled his “don’t worry about what’s over and done.” And, when I noticed the 85+-year-old men playing on a neighboring court, I imagined Dad and his killer hook shot in their midst. Too bad I didn’t get that gene!
—excerpt from Living Is for Living: A Caregiver’s Story
When I discovered our eleven-year-old bunny rabbit sprawled out in her cage, I was hit with disbelief. Even when death is expected, peaceful, and quick, it can be hard to accept. I’m grateful for my spouse and neighbor Mandy who helped me through.
—excerpt from Living Is for Living: A Caregiver’s Story
I was grateful, too, that these days, I could sit at Mom’s side, no words necessary, knowing she felt my love and that it was the emotionality I once felt sorry about, that fueled me now in her daily care.
—excerpt from Living Is for Living: A Caregiver’s Story
In Barbara Cooney’s Ms. Rumphius, a young girl tells her elderly aunt, “When I grow up, I too will go to faraway places, and when I grow old, I too will live beside the sea” to which her aunt responds, “There is a third thing you must do. You must do something to make the world more beautiful.”
—excerpt from Living Is for Living: A Caregiver’s Story
As my spouse and I drove 1400 miles to Maine where we’d set up shop for Mom and Cinnamon to join us, I tried to be brave, to count my lucky stars, to practice my faith. Fingers crossed, in prayer and gratitude.
—excerpt from Living Is for Living: A Caregiver’s Story
Mom had referred to me as her sister and her friend. Then, as Tramadol messed with her mind, she asked me if I’d be her secretary and later, my personal favorite, her “Lady Girl.” I was just glad she still knew I was on her side.
—excerpt from Living Is for Living: A Caregiver’s Story
After a busy spring, I was exhausted. It helped that, when our youngest played Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass on his phone, Mom danced in her chair, from head to toe.
—excerpt from Living Is for Living: A Caregiver’s Story
It’d been fifteen years since Dad died, and I looked for him every day, grateful for all the ways he was still right here, with me.
—excerpt from Living Is for Living: A Caregiver’s Story
