We sit next to each other at the breakfast table, coffee forgotten, as tears roll down our cheeks caused by the seriousness of our conversation.
I am watching, listening and learning.
Next to me is a woman I love and admire, always have, always will!
- and I am blessed to be her daughter.
I know of some of the hardships she's endured - some I've witnessed, some I've been part of and a few I've caused.
She has taught me many things throughout the years - like tricks in baking, or helping me learn not to burn myself when ironing (she did come home too late to save the nylon shorts from being melted...), stopped me in the nick of time so we had whipped cream on our strawberry cake and not butter, or how to knit as I sat next to her, although she almost gave up as my elbows pointed straight out on each side and my tongue was almost in a knot in pure concentrated effort to control needles and yarn.
But I have learned so much from her through just observing and having impressions.
She was so strong, so vital and so full of joy - except for a few moments in her life, that I got a glimpse of at a young age - she held my world together, made it stable even when hers was not.
I was influenced by that, and raised by her, I absorbed with an open heart what she was and desired to model her.
Back at the breakfast table -
Her encounter with a stroke 6 months prior was the subject of our talk - the tears caused by her statement, that she really ought not be sad about the things she is currently unable to do. I countered by saying it is alright, for her to be sad, but encouraged her not to get stuck there. We talked about how bad it could have gone - she saw many in the hospital who did not walk out a few days later as she did.
As she starts talking about the future, I get to listen and learn again.
She is picking up the gauntlet, taking on the fight, not ready to give up or sit back and proclaim " I'm done", not ready to use this as an excuse to claim herself a victim or make it her companion and way of getting attention.
Not this lady. Not my mom.
This isn't some new character trait being developed in her later years - I've seen it before.
Last time was a few years back, when her husband, my stepfather, died.
She lost her footing to shock and grief for a while - stumbled emotionally without a spring in her step laughter in her heart.
But she found her balance again, unsteady and with support at first, but she wanted to keep living and so began that uphill battle of learning how to handle not only practical things - but life itself "alone".
I saw her raising up and becoming involved again - volunteering at a retirement home, rejoining her choir, - helping to others in need, bringing laughter and hugs as she went along.
Off and on her eyes would lose their focus and become distant as she follows a thought that draws her away from the present, only to leave her at a closed door. I've seen the effort it takes in choosing to return and face the present again.
But I have never seen her give up.
She will raise up, regain her balance - laughter will sound again and a song will form in her heart.
I have learned much - wasn't always the best to listen, (she might be the first to tell you that), seems I liked to find my own ways of leaning and doing - but I always watched her. Looking back, even the impressions I had, some of which I with mature eyes now see through, leave me lots to learn from.
There is a part of my heart that wants to protect her. I know exactly the Christmas eve this desire was born.
I was quite young - too young to understand why, but old enough to know mom's tears weren't tears of joy, but tears of sadness.
This desire was reinforced as a teenager, when I heard her being spoken down to, degraded, treated disrespectfully - because my mom deserved to be loved..... everyday. But then in my own radical rebellion I ended up not sparing her from sorrow and heartache.
Why does this desire to protect and guard her still live in my heart today? Hasn't she taught me over all these years? Haven't I seen that she is strong enough to stand up where she needs to - and that she knows what battle to pick?
Not many years after the above mentioned Christmas Eve., she showed me that you can break free from the fear of one person - that if your song gets stolen from your heart. by either people or circumstances...... it is your choice to fight to get it back!
Through all her ups and downs, trials and peace, joys and sorrows, fear and tranquility, she taught me through example....
- keep living, versus giving up/shutting down. Accept help when needed, but regain strength through it, versus dependency/helplessness. Chose joy, not mourning. Don't be afraid to love even after hurt and disappointments. Give of yourself to others. Be creative with what you have, it doesn't take much to have fun. Do laugh at yourself. Enjoy what is around you, beauty abounds. Be thankful.
God is her faith - she loves to live and has chosen joy as her companion.
-b
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