I Sit With Someone Who Sits
I've been caring for Mom for five years. She's 95. I've watched her world slowing diminish, physically and mentally. The song comes to mind, "What's It All About, Alfie?"
I'm starting to take on the perspective of life from her point of view. The ending. The final years. I ask myself the age-old question, of what truly is life's purpose?
My Mom and Dad had successful lives, they both had careers they enjoyed until retirement, raised three well-adjusted children, traveled, my Dad died peacefully in his bed at age 90 and here's my Mom getting ready to follow him.
My brother who is five years older than me is totally into his job pretty much 24/7 and loves it. Has a home, children, grandchildren, the whole nine yards.
I look at my friend's lives, they work or are retired, they have all their Calendar of Events lined up.
And still I wonder, What is Life's Purpose?
None of that seems to touch my heart and soul.
Looking from my Mom's perspective all of this is just STUFF!
Stuff to acquire, stuff to do, stuff to enjoy, stuff to be busy, just filling up the time with stuff....blah, blah, blah. If I had the mental capacity at 95 would I be wondering the same thing? Does God graciously diminish our mental capacity so we don't go crazy wondering this at that age???
I imagine myself lying on my death bed and wanting to feel that kernel of truth, that seed way down deep in my soul, that feeling of substance and satisfaction, to feel I accomplished something more than jobs, houses, cars, even children and relationships.
I feel that taking care of Mom touches that feeling. Taking care of Mom has brought me to realize that having that feeling of substance inside is all that matters. A good laugh, a piece of chocolate cake, sitting in the sun, just having me in the house, these are the things that makes Mom happy, these are the things I can give to her.
She doesn't need much at all. Mostly she just doesn't want to feel alone.
I've thought a lot about moving on after Mom is gone and what will that entail. It's kind of a blurred image of possibilities. But I know now, it won't be the house or the possessions or a Calendar of Events.
It will be that feeling of substance, deep inside me, that I will seek to satisfy.
So I sit, as Mom sits, and I'm in no hurry because I know I have gained so much by this experience, and I know there's more to come.