No Regrets; creating a better Hindsight!

NOVEMBER 6, 2017DOMESTICATED REBELLION EDIT

I was thirteen years old when he had a heart attack. He was lying in the small circular patch of grass that divided the two roads in our neighborhood. No one knew what to do, except me. Everyone just stood around. Or maybe there wasn’t anyone. Maybe it was just me standing there. And now I had a choice. A choice that would change the course of my life in a direction I never anticipated. I could let him die or I could start CPR.

While waiting on the paramedics, I started performing CPR on my father.  I’m sure it was only for a few minutes, but it felt like forever until someone more experienced arrived on the scene and took over. He was breathing they confirmed. His heart was beating irregularly but nonetheless, beating. The man in uniform looped a tube around his head placing a mask over my fathers mouth and nose, rolled him onto a stretcher and transported him to the local VA.

There, people were telling me I probably saved his life. He would be so proud of me. I should be proud of myself. But that isn’t how I felt. I wasn’t proud. I was angry. A deep rooted resentment that surfaced after making the choice to save him.

I have written about time. How fleeting it is. How our tomorrows become yesterday before we even realize it & what we do today will affect us in one way or another tomorrow. Which tomorrow you might wonder? I can’t say, nor can anyone predict.

My tomorrow came years and years later.

I was sitting in the lawyers office with my mother. His secretary showed us into a large conference room and asked if we wanted anything to drink. He would be with us shortly she stated. The room was quiet. My mother sat on one side and my eldest son on the other. A few minutes later a folder of documents was placed before me. The first document was a durable power of attorney naming my mother to make decisions on his behalf. That was normal. Then I read the next paragraph…. in the event she was not able or unwilling… I turned the page and read my name.  Oh Hell No! Me? ME.

My heart started racing. Why me? What the hell was he thinking? I could name a dozen reasons why I, of all people, should not be the one to care for him. I should not make choices on his behalf. My youthful anger that had long ago subsided to a low simmer was now raging at full boil. I had dealt with ‘our’ life. Or so I thought.

The next 6 months proved to be heart wrenching. I witnessed the dominant influence in my life succumb to dementia. I witnessed his struggle in trying to understand what was happening to him. I watched the confusion in his eyes flicker between thankfulness to concern, sometimes convinced I was lying to him about events.

He was never mean to me nor was he ever violent. Because of those two realizations, I found myself fighting FOR him. Struggling to grasp my responsibilities versus my own emotions. Selfish emotions. But emotions I was entitled to feel and no one blamed me. I watched as he returned to a child-like state of mind. But before he regressed, he became my dad.

The day after Mothers day 2012 he had another heart attack. As I look back, I have zero regrets in my acceptance of responsibilities to be his voice. I did not use the powers granted to get back at him. Instead, I used it to love him. To love him again as I once did – innocently.

Sometimes life just doesn’t make sense. Sometimes things happen that we are not in control over and how we respond today determines our fate tomorrow. If you do not already, I encourage you to review your angle on life. Your next steps. Do you consider your tomorrows? Do you ponder what the future holds? I can honestly say I did and because I did, I look at yesterday and can genuinely smile.

I hope each of you gain what I consider now as my ‘gift’. To be able to look ahead just enough to ensure when you look back, you too can genuinely smile.

Til next time~

Domesticated Rebellion

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She was Human

Mom

Woman. Mother. Wife. Sister. Daughter. Grandmother. And if you're one of the lucky ones; BFF.



All descriptive words relating to the female that typically dominates our lives. Influences us by example. Teaches us. Her role differs from family to family depending on a variety of circumstances.

Historically, mom's are remembered as the one who changed our diapers, kissed our boo boos, coddled us closely in their lap, gently rocked us to sleep. She would place a cool rag on our forehead when we didn't feel good. Awake us from a bad dream with the warmth of her assuring touch. She lifts us up when the world has rejected us. She teaches us about faith. She is usually the one who encouraged us to follow our dreams. Find our passions.



She will do without to ensure her child has what is needed & more often than not, what is wanted.

She will work tirelessly to make ends meet.

She will cry alone in the dark.



She will clothe you, feed you and comfort you until she can no longer.

She is also the voice of reason. Discipline. Correction. She re-enforces values, teaches responsibility, keeps traditions of the past while creating her own for the future. She turns a structure of brick & mortar (or tin in my case) into a warm comforting secure place we fondly label as home.

She is the lighthouse beacon that shines thru our darkest days leading us back to safety when we stray.

A mothers love is unconditional and knows no limits although they themselves are indeed limited.
She was determined. Fierce. Independent. She was strong. She had an enormous amount of compassion. And she never met a stranger.

She was a nurturer. She was a giver. She was a survivor.

She was private. She was a screamer. She was disabled. She was self-educated on most fronts. She was opinionated. She was lonely. She was a force to be reckoned with under the right circumstances. She was a fighter.

My mom had been put up for adoption at birth. She lived a traumatic life with her adoptive mother who was abusive and an alcoholic. She had been physically abused by her adoptive mothers' frequent suitors.  She was subjected to the worst of the worst and had no one to turn to for help. She was alone on the streets as a young teenager. She only had a ninth grade education and provided for herself by waitressing until she met and married my dad.

If you're a follower of my writings, then you know my mom has passed. We had a relationship full of turmoil. History between us was filled with anger and resentment. We both longed to be closer; we wanted what we witness in other mother-daughter relationships but it just never happened for us. We were different. Our relationship was strained to put it mildly.

However, no matter where I was, no matter how ugly our encounters could become, she never walked away. She never gave up and she always welcomed me with open arms. (And on occasion, she chased me with those open arms too!)

During our final walk, I chose to hold her hand instead of pull away. I chose to embrace her instead of turning my back.



I chose to walk this walk with her because of all things my mother was or was not -

She was human!

She was perfectly imperfect. And in that I am grateful because I too am perfectly imperfect.

Just as with my dad, I look back on my walk with her & can smile. Prior to her passing, just about two months before, I experienced MY perfect day. A day without resentment. A day without anger. Without jabs. A day of forgiveness and healing. And a lifetime of love.

One single day I will forever treasure & fondly recall upon until we see each other again.

So let me ask you... Have you reached out to whom you call mom lately? Do you harbor resentment from the past as I did? I urge you to reconcile those differences. If your mom is like mine was, no matter what has transpired -- she's waiting for you.

She will continue to wait until she can wait no longer & takes her final breath.


Til Next Time ~
Domesticated Rebellion