Getting Through This

I can hardly believe that Dr. B has been away for almost two weeks.  Equally amazing is the realization that I'm not just getting through it, but I've been feeling happy at times; it's hard to admit this. 

                                      Flying Colors Doves, Allison K. Jones

Getting through it despite being a bit unsettled as I cope daily with a health crisis that has beset my aging parents and the associated innumerable phone calls.  Getting through it even though I am undergoing some mildly unpleasant treatments for a chronic health condition of my own. Getting through it although I haven't had the luxury of a welcoming voice inviting me to say whatever is on my mind.  Getting through it without hearing my voice aloud, yet hearing it within.  Getting through it with a flying color or two.


Furthermore, I don't feel particularly guilty about feeling happy at times.  At least not in the old way.  I'm sure the guilt is still there, but it's not getting in my way.  I drove to Falls Church yesterday for a West Coast Swing lesson and worked on my footwork, my posture, and what Lara called "my smoothness".  Today, I went to Springfield for a gloss and a haircut and smiled as I listened to the employees speak to each other in an Arabic and Spanish.  If I'm feeling guilty,  it's not preventing me from letting a color or two fly.

 

Feeling Guilty Today

My step-sister called yesterday to tell me that my 99 year-old step-father was taken to the hospital after suffering a "sub-acute CVA" .  He had a stroke.  This comes after a couple of months of many small strokes, each one resulting in increased left-side weakness and a corresponding decrease in his ability to move.  This latest episode has left him weaker, and has slurred his speech. To complicate matters, my nearly 92-year-old mother is afflicted with Alzheimer's, and is understandably distraught.  Suddenly, she needs me.  "Where are you? Please come see me.  I'm all alone."

Although I love my mother, and a casual observer might say she and I were close, I would not use that word to describe our connection.   In fact, more than 30 years ago, I left New York for North Carolina with sixty dollars in my pocket to try to escape her life-squelching power.

Yet, I am feeling guilty today.  I feel that I should go to her, to be with her, to try to comfort her, and to let her know she is not alone.  But I don't want to go.  

I suppose some daughters would immediately hop on a plane, or jump in the car to rush to her side.  But I am procrastinating.  Should I forgive her?  Should I put aside the decades of neglect and rejection?  Should I be the dutiful daughter, despite my ambivalence?

She has 24-hour care, and my brother is close by and will be visiting her.  It's not as though she is unattended.  But I am her daughter.

Will my guilt outweigh my deep-seated long-term unresolved anger?  Usually, it does.  I'm not so sure it will this time.  However, when I spoke to my mother on the phone this morning, my heart melted.  I suppose I inherited some of my father's temperament.  He was always the protector, the empath, the source of unconditional love.  My conflicted feelings don't surprise me.  However, it remains to be seen which feeling will triumph this time.