The Love Of Porcupines
If this was high-school, Mom and I would not have been friends. She would have been one of the Mean Girls and I would have been the nerdy little thing trying everything on for size and pining for a guy way out of my league from across the room. Mom would have just dated the guy. She was perfect, if she says so herself, which she, in one way or another, always does. This time is my justice though. While she would have walked hand in hand with that boy down the corridors of school, I am walking her hand in hand through the fading light. I watch her fight for things to be her way and feel her anger and frustration that few things are. But to be honest few things are mine either. WE are compromising, the nerd and the mean girl. We are finding a way each day.
I woke up yesterday and felt the weight of not doing this well. Mom is tough, as I have written in the past, she can be like hugging a porcupine. I still stand by that statement. BUT she is social and owns a room when the party starts….and she has been to many In the last several weeks. People engage with her. They spend time and listen to the stories of the farm and the chickens and the 13 room house she grew up in….I thank them for the sincerity of their attention and they always say…“I miss my Grandma, it was my pleasure.” Me? We fight in Walmart.
This is hard. I am a highly educated, unqualified human when it comes to this disease. The thing is… she doesn’t know she has it, but wonders where she is until she pulls a memory up from childhood that fits the situation, or at least suffices to make the world make sense. Ah the mean girl….she’s back……but I am not the nerd across the cafeteria anymore. I have years of retained knowledge and loving under my belt. Even with this, I openly admit I hosed her down in the bathroom because there was no way she was getting in that shower. (Alzheimer’s patients do not like water, and they get very creative with ways to get out of bathing). Mom has tried to run away, that involved hiding in the front bedroom closet, locking the door to her bedroom…..it does not have a lock… feigning narcolepsy while on the toilet, telling us her knees are wobbly and she is a wilting flower while firmly bracing herself in the doorway to the bathroom with the strength of an ox, to name a few…..I say. “Mom you are stinky and we need to wash”…she says “Well, just don’t smell me,” with the turned up nose of a toddler who knows they have won the battle.
While yesterday she won the battle and I sank into feelings of defeat. Today I woke and though that I should thank her. Thank her for loving me. Thank her for choosing me. Thank her for standing up for me in the hard times and making me face the things she knew would break my heart.
Many many years ago I was visiting my parents to say goodbye to my Grandfather. I had brought my baby son with me and the two toddlers stayed home with their dad. It was just to be a long weekend, but it became the beginning of my brand new story. The last time I saw my Grandfather he said, “Next time bring the whole gang.” It was kind, the effort to give me hope. We both knew there was no next time. When I got back to the house the phone rang and it was my friend and neighbor back home. She asked about Grandpa and if I was still planning to come home the next day. I said he was as expected and yes I would be home.
Pause……
“I need to tell you something and I am doing it now because you are with your family and may want to stay. Your husband has a woman coming to the house every night and she stays most of the night.”
She knew this because she had shattered her wrist and was sitting outside on her porch most nights in agony, so she saw the comings and goings…at some point I believe she did a little snooping in the windows too, which I love her for. We all need that friend.
I did not comprehend. I had no experience with this and my inner nerd did not understand that while I did ultimately marry the guy people pined for, I did not realize he pined for a kind of love I could not give. I sat stunned in a chair. Soon I told my parents what my neighbor said. My father said he knew… he long suspected. Mom said, “Lets go shopping.” I remember staring blankly at racks of children’s clothes trying to process this new information. I saw nothing, and bought nothing. Mom turned to me and said the only way I would know is if I went home and looked him in the eye. Then I would just know….. She was right by the way. The next day we went to the airport and as was tradition, my parents walked me to the gate. This was back in the days when you could do such things. Back before the world blew up and now everyone supposedly has explosives in their shoes. As I was getting ready to board, I turned and looked back at my Mom. She was standing there waving…, and crying. She knew I was headed home to heartbreak. She knew it was the best thing for me. To this day I remember that. I remember turning and seeing how much she loved me. The mean girl unable to be the mean girl and fix the situation. So today I am grateful to mother my mother. I show her the compassion I developed throughout the years. Tomorrow, Mom goes to her new home and I will be the one watching in tears as she goes down the corridors to her new bedroom in a place that is both educated and qualified. And I know it is the best thing for us. Maybe now, we can just be friends. Nobody is the mean girl….and nobody is the nerd.