Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Mother (as in maternal parent) (04/24/08)
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TITLE: My Mother Is Dying | Previous Challenge Entry
By Rhonda Palmer
04/30/08 -
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“You’re new great-grandson arrived today!”
“That’s nice,” is her only response.
“He’s in the nursery ICU with respiratory problems.”
The complication catches her interest and I hear a spark in her voice. Now I have her attention and she finally engages in conversation. Is this what she lives for? Worry? Trouble? Suffering? Any good news I share with her rates only a disinterested mumble.
I have tried everything I know. I have told her humorous things the kids are doing. I have gotten angry when I discover she is not eating or sleeping. I have coaxed, overlooked, bargained and begged.
She has no interest in friends. She hates to go anywhere. Nothing piques her interest.
When she isn’t complaining, she is playing the martyr. “Oh, I’ll be all right … I guess.” She tries to hide the amount of pain pills she takes but, since she won’t go to the pharmacy for her own refills, we know.
Daddy does everything but he never does anything right. It doesn’t matter – the cooking, the cleaning, the shopping. He is always “underfoot” unless he is gone, which is far too often and for less than justifiable reasons. His opinions are never hers and if, by some miracle, they agree, she stops talking. “What’s the point? We see it the same.”
There are questions I want to ask but I already know the answers:
Within four walls, how do you survive? With your only friend a square box flashing images and spewing dialogue you’ve memorized, you don’t. You die a little more each day.
When others reach out to you and try to help, why do you refuse? There is comfort in the cocoon of loneliness I’ve woven for myself. There are pleasant memories in the movies I’ve watched for years. They take me to a time when life was simpler, better. They’re a great distraction.
From what? You wouldn’t understand.
Are you just sitting around waiting to die? Why not? There’s nothing for me here.
Don’t you love us? Of course, but you are not enough.
Recently, we were actually having a conversation – and it wasn’t one-sided. I discovered a woman who has held on to every wound ever inflicted on her - every betrayal, every upset, every loss, every lack. She told me more about herself that night than she had ever revealed before. I learned of a molesting uncle, several disloyal friends and an unfaithful first love. She talked of never belonging, never measuring up, never having enough. I discovered that with both of her parents dead, she felt all alone in this world even though she has a husband and children, sisters and brothers. Her parents were the only people to love her unconditionally, the only ones who had known her all her life.
For me, it was a glimmer of hope. Unburdened, the sourness and grief of her life vomited all over her living room, would she decide to live again? I talked to her of Jesus who knew her before she was born, of His great unconditional love for her, of His compassion and mercy, of His healing.
“Oh, I know all that.” She closed her eyes and wrapped herself even more tightly around the root of bitterness still growing in her heart, clinging to it like a lifeline.
She has the answer. His Name is Jesus. But for her, there is simply no solution. I’m beginning to believe a person can truly breathe her last, well, for no good reason.
My mother is dying but I don’t know why.
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This article touched my heart. Thanks for sharing.
- David