In the early hours of Saturday morning, my mother suffered a stroke, I don’t know whether to call it a massive stroke, but a classic stroke- the right side of her body left immobile, speech blurred and a dark cloud obscured her cognitive functioning.
After the scramble of throwing essentials together, two flights and car rental I joined other family at her side. Watching her struggle, seeing her age (as if for the first time), facing our fears and hopes for recovery, we held vigil.
She knew her story, she just didn’t know exactly how we belonged to it. Very sad to see this beautiful, warm, vivacious and fiercely loving soul trapped behind a curtain of neurological chaos.
Bobbing on the emotional waves of grief, anger, fear, sadness and hope I found some solace in memory. She represents an untiring love of her three sons, no matter how quirky, weird or outright unlovable we may have been a times. She represents an undying devotion to our father (with whom she’s shared every waking moment for seventy years). She represents strength of character, even at the age of 92 in this battle royal.
Sitting alone with my mom before the shift change on four north, sitting with the pain of her questions about who I am, I wonder how the time goes by so fast. Scolding me with a fly-swatter, “just wait until your father gets home,” cheering us on, correcting us, tending our injuries and forgiving our mistakes, lending the grace and strength of redemption. How does time move at warp speed, yet in immeasurable drips. Looking back with minimal regret, I look forward with intention.
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