Maybe I spend too much time looking back, on the life I have had, with my parents.
I mean for the last 11 years, I have lived at home with the two of them. It started off because of an infection I got in my leg, but then turned into looking after them, due to their health concerns.
It also meant a huge change in my own lifestyle, one that I have to admit, seemed unfair. I mean, here I was, a man of 43, having to babysit two people, in their eighties. It seemd so unfair, but a task I accepted. Like, they are my parents, how could I not?
Yet now, with Dad being dead 7 years, and Mom still going, I find that looking back at that choice, was not a chore, not a burden, but a blessing in disguise. Seriously, I honestly believe that it was, because it has helped me come to terms with life itself.
It has also made me realize, just how much they sacrificed, for me, without a single whimper or complaint. Not once, did they ever throw up the things they gave up, to look after me, as a child, as a man. That isn’t normal, least if the people I have met, are any indication.
Somehow, looking back is a whole different experience now, than it was before. Maybe it is the reality of impending loss, that makes me look at things, different. Could simply be maturity, though you would think I was mature, given I am 54 and married for five years. Still, maybe not so much.
I mean, Mother went through a double hysterectomy back in the early 1940′s, which explains why they adopted a child. She simply couldn’t have any, but imagine having to go through that, at the age of 25. I simply can’t, and then too, newly married, and the way society was then, about women and their role in the family.
Dad & I never got along, and yet I realize just how much he loved Mom, and how much he loved me too. I wish he was here, so I could tell him one more time, that I love him, but I can’t. And that hurts, even today, 7 years after his death.
I failed him, and the one thing that drives me today, is to not let that happen with Mom. I didn’t stand up more, with the Doctors, with the System, when he got sick, and I should have. But more than that, I never stopped to think about him, his feelings, when I could have. I should have told him I loved him more often, but didn’t.
Now I have a chance with Mom, and yet, I find myself drawing back, afraid to be emotional, in public. Odd that, because this is about as public as one can get, isn’t it?
