I am a caring person in a world where your husband is dead, where your friends are dying. It’s okay if you don’t remember my name, if you don’t remember me at all, if you will just give me some access, if you will just lie down on this plush carpet, if you will just keep still as I plunge into you as many blunt instruments as I can and suck and suck and suck.
I'll turn 80 in April. My dream is that I stay (become?) civil as I lose my faculties, rather than becoming a cranky old fucker snapping at anybody who comes near me. My understanding of neurology suggests I will have no say in the outcome.
By the time I was 32, I had buried my last parent. That was a lifetime ago. They weren't good at survival. There's a lot of that in my family.
There are a lot of ways to miss your mother. It's probably easier to do it after they're gone. Vaya con dios, both of you. I'll be there soon enough myself, maybe with no one to visit at all. You make your choices and you get to live (and die) with them. Her choices got her to her 80's with a caring, loving daughter to do whatever she can to help her out. We'll all do our best in the meantime.
"I'll try to not be quite so damn cranky," he said.
My dad died way too young of a glioblastoma (the hope-free brain tumor). His last 3 weeks took his memory but the day before he died I came and held his hand. That gray November morning he gave me the gift of a lifetime. He looked up at me and said "I don't know who you are but you seem like such a kind person, I bet you are easy to love". I hadn't thought about that day for awhile but your writing brought it back and helped me stop and breathe and embrace the wonder. Ten minutes later my TypeA and I are back at it, but Nancy, I so appreciate the gift of your beautifully palpable words and the memories and emotions they inspire. ❤️🙏
If only one could purchase solace like potato chips you could rip open and dive into every time life makes you have need of it. Everyone else can keep all the magical items dreamt of in human history; I want an inexhaustible Pringles can of solace.
Truly beautiful, Nancy. I am of Matt Welch's vintage (I was first introduced to you via the Fifth Column), and apparently something close to yours as I have a mother just north of 80 years old. These thoughts, and threats, have become all too real in her experience as well. Thanks for sharing, and best to your mom.
I'll turn 80 in April. My dream is that I stay (become?) civil as I lose my faculties, rather than becoming a cranky old fucker snapping at anybody who comes near me. My understanding of neurology suggests I will have no say in the outcome.
By the time I was 32, I had buried my last parent. That was a lifetime ago. They weren't good at survival. There's a lot of that in my family.
There are a lot of ways to miss your mother. It's probably easier to do it after they're gone. Vaya con dios, both of you. I'll be there soon enough myself, maybe with no one to visit at all. You make your choices and you get to live (and die) with them. Her choices got her to her 80's with a caring, loving daughter to do whatever she can to help her out. We'll all do our best in the meantime.
"I'll try to not be quite so damn cranky," he said.
Well said. It's awful that there are people who will prey on the vulnerable like this.
I really enjoyed "You Must Remember This"; still thinking about it. Expect I'll likely listen to it again at some point.
Love the photos!
Well said, and sorry. I'm going through a version of this with my mom.
My dad died way too young of a glioblastoma (the hope-free brain tumor). His last 3 weeks took his memory but the day before he died I came and held his hand. That gray November morning he gave me the gift of a lifetime. He looked up at me and said "I don't know who you are but you seem like such a kind person, I bet you are easy to love". I hadn't thought about that day for awhile but your writing brought it back and helped me stop and breathe and embrace the wonder. Ten minutes later my TypeA and I are back at it, but Nancy, I so appreciate the gift of your beautifully palpable words and the memories and emotions they inspire. ❤️🙏
If only one could purchase solace like potato chips you could rip open and dive into every time life makes you have need of it. Everyone else can keep all the magical items dreamt of in human history; I want an inexhaustible Pringles can of solace.
Truly beautiful, Nancy. I am of Matt Welch's vintage (I was first introduced to you via the Fifth Column), and apparently something close to yours as I have a mother just north of 80 years old. These thoughts, and threats, have become all too real in her experience as well. Thanks for sharing, and best to your mom.
"Mostly, it’s Mom and me as she slows, or maybe slows is the wrong word. As she leaves."
That one hit me right in the feels.