What I've Learned...Continued

What I've Learned...Continued

   While eating out with my mom at her standby Chinese buffet (after being cooped up in rehab, then her home, she was anxious to get back to her old haunts), I opened my fortune cookie and saw this: One must dare to be himself, however frightening or strange that self may prove to be.  It fit right in, not so much for me but for what my mom was somewhat conveying to me, this despite what I viewed as all the seeming nitpicking and following around and correcting.  It was all done out of love, one could see that; but at times, love can make one pull at one's hair.  But through it all, I think she was simply saying, "be yourself...be true to yourself."  So here's a bit of what I hope I've learned from my recent visits and stays with her...

   ACCEPT:  Step one was acceptance.  This was her home, her life, and no matter what I was thinking --you know, how much better it could be or how much more organized it could be or how much stuff I could clean up-- this was her lifestyle, and had pretty much always been so.  After a grueling shock to her system (the fall, the emergency room, the ambulance, the pain, the rehab...), she was now home...her home.  As with any of us, there is nothing like coming home and being home.  Even after a great vacation, staying at a great resort, or living it up with family, nothing beats your head finally settling down on your own pillow in your own bed in your own home.  We all tend to say, "it's nice to be home."  And here I was, coming in a bit like a banshee, albeit one with good intentions, ready to "change" her home for the better, to make her more comfortable, to put her at ease.  Eventually I found, she was at ease...she was home.  I had to accept that.

   BACK OFF:  This was was easy, but difficult, if that makes sense.  My brother and I had both been told that by our aunt, to back off a bit, but somehow it was harder to implement than we thought.  Still, one only has to put oneself in the other person's shoes.  You shouldn't smoke, you shouldn't eat that, you shouldn't be driving, you shouldn't, shouldn't, shouldn't.  None of us like to be told what we should or shouldn't do.  And when it's repeated over and over, it begins to sound like nagging...which it is.  And what happens when we get nagged (by anyone)...we rebel and often, we dig our heels in the sand and do exactly what we want to do anyway.  So did my mom...

   BE THERE:  Some weeks ago, I was chatting with a friend and mentioning the realization that my dogs were quite content being outside with us.  There was almost none of the barking at every passing stranger, none of the antsy pacing and digging and restlessness.  In fact, there was quite a bit of sleeping and relaxing by them, mainly because we were just sitting there and being with them.  I found that this was much the case with my mother.  I didn't have to spend every precious minute discussing the "big" issues, be they of life or the world or the future.  More often than not we could indeed just sit and watch some mindless game show on the television, fall asleep doing so, and it was okay.  We were together, and just being there was enough.  Was it  just companionship?  Perhaps (this was so eloquently captured in Our Souls At Night, the recent novel by the late Kent Haruf about an elderly couple just tired of being alone), or perhaps it was simply just someone being there now, and not waiting until she was in a coma lying in a hospital bed...there before all that.  It's something we all want, don't we, just someone there?

   GIVE IN:  Despite how it sounds, this is far from "giving up."  The difference might be in knowing how to combine the acceptance and backing off with grace.  If my mom was going to serve that sandwich, well, she was going to make it and serve it, all despite how uncomfortable she felt.  So hungry or not (I did finish the sandwich, chips and all), there's a point to giving in and realizing that again, that person is likely doing it for you and that one should simply accept the effort for what it is, something done out of love and caring and thus something that should be accepted with thanks and dignity.

   HAVE PATIENCE:  Boy oh boy, this is an easy thing to say, isn't it?  It's what we all know and all think about later as guilt slowly ebbs its way into our quiet time.  Those are the moments we can hear ourselves mutter internally, "I should have had more patience."  When things don't go our way, for whatever reason, we can usually feel that "fuse" burning shorter and shorter.  Think of being on the phone getting instructions when your computer crashes.  Often, what seems so simple to one person can be quite difficult to understand for another, no matter our ages.  And taking the time to step back, to take a breath, can be a true test of our mettle, especially when it comes to those that we love.  But thinking ahead usually proves better in the long run, to just pause a moment and let the emotions dissipate now, for surely they will return late at night, or tomorrow, or next year while sitting in a hospital.  Better now than later, when it might indeed be too late.

   LISTEN:  We all do it, excitedly talking about someone we met that day or something that happened to us, a near miss or a funny incident or a distant memory just now returning.  Not all the time, of course, but often enough to sometimes talk so extensively and with such detail that we start to see the other person's eyes glaze over or glance away more often than we'd like.  My mom tells me stories of her friends, sometimes of her childhood (although rarely), and almost always, I have no idea who she is talking about, having never met the people or their circumstances.  This usually differs from the "the other day I met these people" stories for these are her everyday memories, the people she met for lunch or played cards with or saw in church; and often, the tales evolve into stories of their families, the names and details growing more and more faint until they are almost meaningless.  But I listen, furtively for sure, guilty of that quick glance at the television (which doesn't stop her stories).  It is a set of ears, and likely a set of stories and memories that have been building for awhile with no outlet.  These few moments to let her unload those thoughts are valuable, the old "God gave you only one mouth but two ears" saying.  Listen...it's worth it.

   THEIRS IS THEIRS:  Finally, after tossing out old glass bottles such as decades-old mayonnaise jars and pickle jars, I began attacking (for that is likely what it must have seemed to my mom) her collection of drinking straws and plastic utensils, all snagged during her eating forays at fast food places (and I'm talking items which seemed to be nearing the hundreds).  This didn't really go well, appearing as if I was clearing out her valuables (the compromise was to discard all the unwrapped items and save those that were still sealed in their wrappers).  But as I look back, I think that I would have the same reaction, for imagine a close family member coming into your house, opening a closet or drawer and deciding to clean up "the mess" inside.  Those piles of paper maps, those sweaters that are nearly rags, those old boxes of pasta, maybe somewhere along the way they all came with a memory and were important.  Okay, not likely, especially when it comes to old boxes of pasta (they were thrown out).  But the difference was a simple one...just asking and explaining.  Did she really need all those maps?  Was she planning to drive to Nebraska or use that 2001 guide to accommodations in Colorado?  Did she know that most maps are more easy to follow on mobile phones or tablets (no)?  Did she ever use those sweaters?  The answers, especially if explained that only a few items were only being tossed to make room so that other, more important things such as folders of warranties and contractors could be more readily seen and accessed, well, that was a different story...go ahead, she said, all with a careful eye to make sure that I was staying true to my word and not heaving out something valuable.  More often than not, I would hear her say, "I need that;"  it didn't matter that it was the crumbled and crushed collection of plastic bags from the stores, or the fifteenth empty cookie tin that was now beginning to show signs of rusting.  Maybe she did need that, if only to provide comfort in her surroundings.  What good was staring at an empty shelf when in a week or so, I would be gone, the damage done.  Looking at my own cluttered shelves, would I also wonder just what used to sit there, the blank space now haunting me as I pondered just what I had lost?  Again, not likely, but then, I'm not the one nearing 90.

   In the end, we all can only hope that we reach that age where indeed we can look back from a great distance in human time.  Think of standing next to a teenager and reciting that line you thought you'd never, ever say..."I'm older than you and I think I know a bit more than you."  When you're almost 90, everyone younger than 75 must seem to be that teenager.  And who's to say otherwise?  Until we are there, who knows what thoughts go through our heads.  It's taken me this long to still realize a few things, to still be taught a few things, to still understand a few things, all of them obvious but all of them apparently all but invisible until now.  Mothers and fathers can do that...always teaching, always hoping that their children are still capable of learning.  In my case, I can only hope that I've indeed learned a few, a very few, things...