I just returned from a trip to ma and pa's house out in Spokane, Washington. No, I am not originally from Spokane,
I am from the Bay, but my folks moved there after pa returned from his job
mining gold in Saudi Arabia
(a story for another time).
The Sun and I go to the p's house in the summer and winter
of each year. it used to be quarterly,
until tre got to an age when he needed to be around other children and he didn't
yet know anyone in the neighborhood. Now
he has lots of friends and adores going to gramma's house, as it should be.
My mother is an amazing human being - and y'all know
i don't use that word in a care-free fashion.
Amazing is an amazing word that deserves to be used to describe amazing
stuff. Like many mother-daughter, we have
not always had an easy relationship. I
feel grateful to be able to call my mother my closest ally in this lifetime. The key for me is being willing to go deep with
my mom, at ever-deepening levels, into my own vulnerability, into my own scary,
magic, wild, unpredictable, being-ness.
It is where my power is, but it is also dangerous territory. The risk of annihilation feels ever-present, and
inner-rebellion is at a shaky truce - balance is delicate and is also key.
My mom married at 21 and had my brother Eric when she was 23.
About a year after my brother was born, it was time for another, and
they tried for a while, but my mother did not conceive. A decision was made to adopt and after I came
to live with them at 9 months of age, my sister arrived 7 months later. So visually, my sibs and me are like those
backwards oreo cookies - which i don't think ever really took off. Ironically, "oreo cookie" was one
of many descriptor names given to kids born of my ilk. Either way, my position on oreo cookies -
in whatever form - is that they are best eaten in their component parts...its
just a preference, people, it's not a requirement, nor is it some sort of
political statement. It's just a
preference.
My mom and I went through all manner of mother/daughter
battles, but what I really appreciated about my mother was that I felt like i
could come to her for anything. I didn't always take advantage of that, but i
knew she was there. And I can still come
to her for anything - and I do...sometimes.
Everyone has their edge.
A few years ago, my mother bought a new mattress for her and
my dad. When she was telling me about
it, she mentioned how long it was expected to last "about 10 years, and
you know your father and I aren't likely to live much beyond that." It was the first time their mortality was
made real to me in a really, really real way.
Not that i went out and purchased plots or anything. It's more that the reality of their death has
opened up in me a deeper way to appreciate each and every trip we are granted. Each moment, each memory is so
sweet. And I know it's the same for
them.
My mother and I have never had a physically close
relationship. I just couldn't, just
could NOT get close to another caregiver...get close to another mommy-like being only to face another
betrayal at its deepest human level? Nope, hands off the small being. And that went for virtually everyone, not just my mom.
At 75, my mother has many physical aliments, one of them
being her feet. Her goddamn feet. The one body part she adored and took such
good care of during her life. She went
barefoot much of her life, and then she wore the "good shoes" like Birkenstocks. Now, the bones in her feet are not
cooperating and it hurts to walk!
Not to mention that she has had to witness her most treasured body part
slowly turn on her. Fuckin' aging man!
This trip i cared for my mother's feet. We sat in my favorite chairs (the ones that
are assigned to me in the will), and I mixed some vitamin E + K oil with
Bergamot oil and i gave her a foot massage.
And all through the massage I kept thinking how we ALL need to give our
feet more love, more care, more attention.
So much is absorbed through our
soles.
At one point during the time I had my hands on her feet, i looked up at
her and her eyes were closed and I saw my mother relaxed, so relaxed. And I was happy and sad at the same
time. Happy because I was able to
relieve some of her pain through my touch, and sad because it would only be for
a moment.
My mother says that quality of life is everything and I
agree with her. She has made it very
clear that when her quality of life is diminished to the point beyond-beyond, to let
her go. Don't keep her hanging, just let
her go. Dad is a bit worried that mom
might get trigger-happy and he has instructed us to let him linger for a
while. Check and check.
I hope there are many more years with her - I would love for
her to see me free of some of my shackles and I would love to see her free
of some of hers. Most of all, I
know that when my mother does die, it will be with a peace and joy in my heart
about the mother she was, and is, to me.
Until then, we will both continue to move forward with each-other,
baring our hearts and souls, knowing that it's the only way through, knowing
that it is love itself.
