Saturday, May 9, 2009

A day.

Its days like today that I feel defeated by the disease that has taken over my mom's body. I want to roll up in a ball, throw in the white towel and crawl into bed. I don't like it. I don't like what it has done to her and I feel robbed. Robbed of the woman who was my mother that was taken mentally and physically away by this disease. Most days I trudge along strong, telling people she isn't doing well, but staying strong and saying, yeah, it sucks, but I am ok.

Today I do not feel ok. It isn't fair. I want to celebrate Mother's Day in a normal way. I want her to meet me at restaurant, talk about life and how crazy it is. I want her to offer to take Mallory to the park, to push her on the swing, to slide the down the slide chasing after her.

Instead Kate and I took her to a restaurant, a restaurant she said she had never been to before, that in reality used to be her favorite. I fed her lunch. She slept during bites, she coughed on her pop. She asked me time and time again "what day is it?" First she thought it was November and then April. She is in bed now, and she went to bed unaware of what was really celebrated today.

I am completely aware of the pity party that I am throwing myself. I am not proud of the party; nor did I want the invitation and sentence to throw one. I don't want to feel this way. I know I am lucky to still have her on Earth with me. I know somewhere deep inside of her she still knows the love she used to show us when the disease was at its early stages. I am lucky that my daughter has gotten to spend an incredible year and a half living with her grandma.

But today the fog of the disease makes all these moments and memories seem hazy.

Know that I am not writing this for sympathy. Not at all. This is when this blog becomes an outlet. I have broken down several times today and to all I just say, "I'm fine. Really. I just want my husband home and it is a hard weekend to not have him here." In all honesty I just wanted to shout the words out, scream out loud at how mad, frustrated, and just downright sad that this is what God dealt to us.

I know tomorrow I will wake up refreshed. Ready to take on this disease and push aside my grief to make sure that my mom is told as many times as she needs to be that it is Mother's Day and that I am happy she is my mom and I am her daughter.


Robin said...

Ugh, I can't tell you how hard that was to read. Brings back to many memories. Makes me feel just sick. Hang in there. :(

Pam said...

I am so sorry that your family has to go through this. But, your last sentence is what really counts. Your mom is very blessed to have you and your sister to love her and care for her. Even though those messages may not be getting from her heart to her head where she can pass them on to you, you can be sure that they're there somewhere, deep within her heart and soul.