Garden Gate
I was half asleep in a cab one evening a few weeks ago watching the rain run down the window feeling equally as “run down” from a long week of work in some city other than the one I was in… and neither was home. I was thinking about Mom, making lists of things that needed doing, and new ways I would approach her when I arrived at her house. As my thoughts drifted in the rain drops I heard him.
“I said LOVE her like I would….I did not say SAVE her.’
Here I was mad dashing between jobs and cities in the hopes of keeping her afloat, keeping her well. Not even for a moment considering happiness for either one of us. I had hoped she would want to move closer and bake cookies and visit friends, grandchildren, maybe even travel to someplace she had only dreamed of. Whatever she wanted I would work to make that a reality for her. She is my Mom. But that is MY happiness ideal, not hers. Her happiness is living as long as she can seeing Dad make pancakes at the kitchen stove or read a book in his recliner. Her happiness is breathing the air they breathed together and living the laughter they shared just a little longer. .
I can not save her. You can not save another person. You can share what you know in time talent and love but saving them is not up to us. It was time to let go. I suddenly took a deeper breath. That is it…just love her. Forget the bills and house and food and the long to do lists….just love her.
It’s amazing the stories we write for ourselves out of our own flaws. My instinct to save Mom was based in MY need to be loved and please her, to be a good girl. I always, and I do mean always, hear some version of not enough: Not young enough, not pretty enough, not thin enough. I do have a history to base that lie on, but I am also old enough to realize that is just bollox and move on.
I recently adopted a puppy. He was in the back of the bunch jumping up and down as if to say:
“Its me! It’s me, pick me!!”
I saw that odd looking little dog and said you are right it is you, and scooped him up. But that is for a later date, other than to say I think have lived for 53 years like that puppy. Setting myself to the task of saving someone with dementia is the great impossible. You will never be enough. It’s the perfect set up.
I look back for a moment and think of all the times I interpreted what someone else said in my own language of inadequacy. How did that color the story and the outcome? What if I simply was up front and said I feel this or I am hearing you say this with those words….am I correct or have I fallen totally off my pony? It is a new exercise for me.
Listen
Check to see if my filter of inadequacy is on
Ask questions or speak up.
I arrived safely at Mom’s that rainy night and we had a wonderful weekend. We got the list mostly done, argued about personal strength; she had to show me she was still strong and I needed to show her I was strong at all. It was almost comical. But we baked cookies and ate at our favorite restaurants. We both failed at figuring out the tv remote and where the well was. (Apparently it was overdue to be tested to make sure it was up to city standards…) You know who was enough? Dad. He would have taken us out, listened, turned on the TV with ease and we would never know the well had to be tested. While he remains perfect in our minds we are now looking to love each other from our flaws. She is honest and unfiltered and I am learning to speak up.
This is the garden gate for us. She can’t go yet and I can not replace someone. I am simply me standing here saying I love you this way. It is what I have to share. I will share what I know and who I am with you as long as I can.
This is our enough.
Peanut Butter and Jelly Thumb Print Cookies
Ingredients
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 cup peanut butter
1/4 cup shortening
1/4 cup butter, softened
1 egg
1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
Steps
1
Mix sugars, peanut butter, shortening, butter and egg in large bowl. Stir in remaining ingredients. Cover and refrigerate about 2 hours or until firm.
2
Heat oven to 375°F.
3
Shape dough into 1 1/4-inch balls. Roll in chopped peanuts. Place about 3 inches apart on ungreased cookie sheet.
4
Bake 9 to 10 minutes or until light golden brown. When they come out of the oven press down the center and fill with your favorite jelly.
Cool 5 minutes; remove from cookie sheet. Cool on wire rack.