She Felt My Pain

“He that conceals his grief finds no remedy for it”
~Turkish saying

Today I was asked the question, “Why are you the way you are. How could you forgive everything and care for your mom.”

Last year my mother was put into ICU and we were faced with the fact that she might die. At that time I made the decision to become her caregiver. I did it because I believe that my mother’s alcoholism was an illness. I did it because my mother was dying and no matter what she did in the past I loved her and believed that she should die with someone who loved her by her side.

“Sincere forgiveness isn’t colored with expectations that the other person apologize or
change. Don’t worry whether or not they finally understand you. Love them and
release them. Life feeds back truth to people in its own way and time.”

I realize now that when my oldest son was born, I gained a new respect for my mom. For the first 13 years of my life she raised me. She was a good mom, before she gave up her life to alcohol. I wanted my son to have a relationship with her. To get to know her and love her. When she moved here 4 years ago she developed a wonderful bond with both my boys. They loved her. They got to have the relationship with her that I so desperately wanted. I was able to shield them from the drinking. She would read with them, cook with them and most importantly she would tell them she loved them. The relationship she had with them gave me hope that one day she would have that sort of relationship with me.

Being a caregiver is not a glamorous job. Especially when the person you are caring for gets angry with you. My mom was angry a lot. She was mostly angry with herself. She knew that drinking was the cause of her illness. Her liver would not have failed of she had been able to stop drinking. Although I was well aware that her drinking led to her cirrhosis and I tried for years to get her to stop, I did not see the sense in dwelling on it. I felt that we should focus on treating it and more importantly enjoy the life she had left. I still get frustrated when I think about how much time was wasted dwelling on the past.

The things that happened during my childhood had no relevance during this time. I had to let go of all the hurt and the pain to focus on understanding my mom’s illness, her meds and the things I could do to help her live longer. I was able to do this because no matter what she was my mother and my children’s grandmother. I was determined to make sure she was treated with dignity.

As I answered told all of this to my counselor after she asked me that question. I could feel my eyes begin to well with tears, I reached for a tissue as the tears heated my cheeks. Before I knew it, I was reliving the last 24 hours of my mom’s life. The horrible details will spilling from my mouth despite my intention of never saying what happened out loud. Before I knew it I was saying, “No one no matter what they have done should die that way, no one, especially not my mother, and no one should have to see the things that we saw that day.” As the tears began to dry on my cheeks, I looked up to see her reach for I tissue. I let my eyes wander to hers and I realized she too was crying. She felt my pain.

I realized today that I have not only been grieving my mom’s death, I’ve been grieving the way she died. Grief has so many layers. It seems every time I feel I have managed one part of my grief another aspect reveals itself.

Related articles

• God Gives us Rainbows (understandingthepast.wordpress.com)
• Trying to Catch My Breath (understandingthepast.wordpress.com)
• Took a Minute to Grieve (understandingthepast.wordpress.com)

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