There Will Be No Parade
For all you Unsung Heroes out there, just know, that when it’s over, there will be no parade. In this moment you are in a barrage of fire, juggling many plates, wearing many hats, crossing off those lists and then, in the next moment, you will find yourself back in your life, stunned, dazed, wondering what was that all about.
Everyone will be indifferent. To them it was inevitable, expected, of course, they’re old, they’re dying!
They don’t realize you’ve spent years keeping them alive. It’s been about survival, not just for them, but for you too. You’re like a soldier coming back from war. One moment it’s life or death and the next you’re getting off a plane, back with the civilians, who say Oh hey, welcome back! and walk away. And there you are.
You slip back in and try to pick up where you left off, but everything’s a little different now and you’re altered in some way. Yet nobody sees it because nobody knows what you’ve been through. And nobody ever will.
I’m coming to the end of my tour of duty with mom.
Autumn is definitely in the air. So I’m starting to reconcile with it now, during these quiet days where she mostly sleeps. As she heads down that tunnel toward the light, I also am traveling my tunnel, only I will be going back into the land of the living. When I emerge, there will be not a murmur, nor a stir, and there definitely will be no parade.