Well, this is a pretty descriptive picture of mom. She is but a shadow of her former self. The title of this entry describes how my brothers and I feel when one of us becomes the target of mom's anger. And we all get a turn in the barrel.
Wednesday morning at mom's was unremarkable, it's one of days when I go over and try to get her in some sort of shape for "date night" with her friend. She is usually pretty amenable to my suggestions of washing her hair and changing her clothes (though I don't think she will get into the shower again till spring). But for some reason, this day was different. She took great offense at my suggestion that the clothes she had on should be changed, and when I pointed out the spillage on her shirt, that's when she invited me to leave (after throwing her house keys at me). So I did just that. It wasn't the first time I'd been invited to leave, so I didn't really give it much thought. Usually when I go back an hour or so later, all has been forgotten. This time, though, when I came through the door at noon, I had morphed into a monster who had stolen her fudge, and she was very distraught at the sight of me. I didn't stay, and instead left her in the hands of brother Mike, who fixed lunch for her and found the fudge where she had hidden it in the microwave.
I always try not to take these incidents personally, but it's always hard when you think your mom hates your guts. So, to end on a better note, I went back yesterday and all was well. We got the hair washed and the clothes changed and had a really happy day. Wonder who will be next in the barrel . . .
Hi Kathy,
ReplyDeleteNot to shift the focus to my own experience, but just to share that I remember the time my parents were visiting from FL - mom was talking to Ron in the family room, dad and I were on the deck just outside the sliding glass doors. We were speaking quietly, and the tv was loud enough in the family room that mom couldn't hear us. Dad was discouraged because mom was getting worse and he was hoping their visit with us and with my sisters and their families would help. I hugged my dad and all of a sudden my mom got up from the couch and came out to the deck and got sooo mad at dad - and then at me. It took a couple minutes to realize it, but finally I did see that my mom thought of me as a strange woman hugging her husband. She didn't realize who I was. She didn't talk to me (and things were NOT pleasant for my dad) for the rest of the evening. I went to bed that night and cried at the fact that mom didn't know me and couldn't see me as her daughter. You've been there a thousand times, for sure.
In the morning, she was up early and talkative as ever. She was "the shadow" that I had been coming to know - who knew me but was confused about so many other things. Mom never spoke to me again of that night, but my Dad surely rode in the barrel many, many times after that as she declined.
Those barrel trips hurt - because they injure the soul - and are not the physical injuries suffered by the barrel riders who have attempted to go over Niagara Falls.
I guess what I am trying to say, Kathy, is that I pray you and Rick don't endure too many of those rides, but when you do, that you will hang on for dear life and know that others have taken those trips too. Each trip injures us a little more, and those injuries are unique for each family, but we still come out of the barrel to enjoy days of blessing...the better days. And while it doesn't make your trips any better, I hope it helps to know there are some of us out here who are riding with you..and we understand.
Prayers my friend,
Sue