I keep preparing for that day. I have cried. I've heard a voice tell me, "She's not dead yet, don't cry." That was six years ago. But I still cry.
I sometimes think I will be devoid of tears by the time she dies. Relieved, even. Of course I'll be relieved. She is not happy in this ancient body that she pushes to perform, and does oh so painfully slowly.
Mom says she's ready to go, but her actions contradict her words. She gets up in the morning, puts in her eyedrops, puts on her makeup, washes her hands after every bathroom visit and after every doorknob to prevent the flu that would take her out, gets flu shots faithfully every year, eats well, takes her medications, including vitamin C, every single day, on time. Is this a person who wants, or expects, to die?
A friend who is into astrology said once that people under the sign of Taurus have a hard time letting go.
It's not that I want my mother to die. I love her. I will miss her. But it is painful. It is hard work. It is draining. It is stressful. And my life has value, too.
How many others caring for their aging parents feel the same way?
And then, the next thought? How will Jared do assuming I reach a ripe old age?