Walking My Mother Home: On Aging, Love, and Letting Go

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“To love somebody deeply is to be taught the artwork of holding on and letting go—typically at the exact same time.” ~Unknown

Nothing has softened me—or challenged me—like caring for my ninety-six-year-old mom as she slowly withdraws from the world. I believed I used to be robust, however this can be a totally different type of energy—one rooted in give up, not management.

She as soon as moved with rhythm and religion—attending Kingdom Hall for over sixty years, sharp in thoughts and dressed with dignity. She’s a effective and good Christian lady, usually in comparison with Julie Andrews for her magnificence and radiant grace. But now, she not often will get out of her gown. She sleeps by means of the day. The companies she as soon as cherished are left unplayed. She says she’s drained and feels ‘off.’ That’s all.

I ache to revive her to who she was. But no encouragement or gesture can carry that model of her again. Something in me retains reaching for her previous, whilst she settles into her current.

As somebody used to instructing, creating, and mentoring, I’ve constructed a life round serving to others transfer ahead. I’m solution-oriented. I attempt to encourage change.

But I can’t repair this. I can’t elevate her out of time’s embrace. Viktor Frankl, the psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor, wrote, “When we’re not in a position to change a state of affairs, we’re challenged to vary ourselves.” That quote feels particularly private now. Because I can’t change what’s occurring to my mom—however I can soften my resistance. I can change the best way I present up.

Walking Each Other Home

There’s a ravishing quote by Ram Dass that returns to me on this quiet second: “We’re all simply strolling one another dwelling.” I take into consideration that after I carry her a bowl of soup, maintain her hand, or whisper, “I really like you.”

I’m not right here to carry her again to life because it was. I’m right here to stroll beside her—gently, imperfectly, faithfully—as she lets go of this chapter.

I believe usually of Pope John Paul II, who remained remarkably compassionate whereas bedridden within the final days of his life. As his physique failed, he interpreted his struggling not as a burden, however as solidarity with the poor and the sick. His vulnerability turned a doorway to better understanding. That imaginative and prescient moved me deeply. Because that’s what I hope to do—not simply take care of my mom however be reworked by the act of caring.

I’ve studied meditation. I’ve written and taught about presence in filmmaking. But this—each day care, uncooked emotion, the unknown—is the deepest type of mindfulness I’ve ever recognized.

Thich Nhat Hanh teaches that “When you’re keen on somebody, the very best factor you possibly can provide is your presence.” So I attempt to be there. Not fixing. Not explaining. Just respiratory. Just sitting beside her.

In Buddhism, impermanence just isn’t a punishment—it’s a fact. Everything lovely fades. Clinging brings struggling. Peace comes from loving with out greedy. That’s what I’m studying, slowly, as I witness her journey unfold.

Some days, I really feel like I’m failing. I lose persistence. I say an excessive amount of, and I say it too loudly. But I present up once more. I apologize. I soften. I be taught.

There’s a quiet type of love rising in me. It doesn’t appear like grand gestures. It appears to be like like warming her tea with honey. Adjusting her blanket. Noticing she’s chilly earlier than she says a phrase. This is slow-burning compassion—the type that asks nothing in return. It’s not about being a hero. It’s about being human.

I used to assume knowledge got here from those that spoke essentially the most. But now I see that a number of the biggest lecturers say little in any respect. My mom, largely silent now, is instructing me about humility, getting older, and give up.

Like Pope John Paul II, I need to flip my struggling into understanding. To really feel my coronary heart break open—not shut down—and to know that this isn’t simply her time of transition, it’s mine too.

Lately, my very own well being has begun to shift—macular degeneration, diastolic coronary heart failure, near-blindness, persistent fatigue, and a rising sense that I, too, am getting older. At first, I resisted. I wished to remain helpful and robust. But now, I see these adjustments as reminders: to reside gently, to like absolutely, and to be current. My physique just isn’t the issue—it’s the messenger. And its message is easy: this isn’t about me. It’s about how effectively I present up for her.

So what’s it that I’m studying right here on this unusual, quiet area between caregiving and grief?

  • You don’t must be excellent to be current.
  • Love doesn’t at all times appear like pleasure. Sometimes it appears to be like like persistence.
  • Letting go isn’t failure—it’s an expression of grace.
  • Even in loss, there’s progress.
  • The finish of 1 life chapter can open your coronary heart to all of humanity.

A Whisper Before Sleep

Each night time, I ensure she’s able to sleep. Sometimes she’s dozing. Sometimes she’s half-aware. Sometimes she’s simply staring on the TV. But each night time, I whisper, “I really like you, Mom.” Maybe she hears me. Maybe not. But I say it anyway—as a result of love, at this level, is extra about presence than response.

And now, one other quiet miracle has entered her world. Nugget—the small, grey-furred cat who’s tremendous cute and equally loopy—has turn out to be her closest companion. My mom by no means cared a lot for animals. She discovered them messy, distant. But Nugget modified all that.

This tiny creature curls at her ft, climbs into her lap, and purrs with out query. And my mom responds—stroking her fur, speaking softly, calling her ‘my little kitty.’ It’s pure, shocking, and profound. Nugget brings her again to the current in methods I can not. She opens a door to tenderness that has lengthy remained closed.

My mom nonetheless shares vivid tales from the distant previous, although she forgets what occurred an hour in the past. Still, she is aware of me. She is aware of Nugget. And for that, I’m grateful.

I nonetheless want I may do extra. But I present up—quietly, imperfectly, with love. I stroll her dwelling the very best I can.

And in that strolling, in that give up, I’m starting to know what it actually means to be alive.

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