I stepped out the front entryway of my big old red brick mansion, Van Morrison's Moondance on my Ipod, sun shining, birds chirping. Yes I can still hear the birds through my headphones. I don't crank the volume up to the roaring blaring white noise that would make my ears bleed. Just background music to pace my walk.
The walk I was taking was not a long one, but as I walked in time with the music, I had a lot to think about. My Mom tried to raise my 4 sisters and I with little or no help. I know how she felt, I did the same but only with 2. She must have felt some relief after we all grew up and moved away. No stress, fun with her friends, hanging with her boyfriend John every other weekend.
John, being John Wayne, yes THE John Wayne. My Mom is a western addict, and anything with John Wayne is watched as if it were the first time she ever saw it. I tease her and call him her boyfriend. This is always a great way to start a conversation with her these days.
Life was going really great. Kids were getting ready to be adults and start their own lives. I had put a deposit on a zippy little two seater sports car. A guilty pleasure after driving the big shiny black SUV full of Hockey and Ski gear all over the province. I was making plans to run my photography studio full time, take a few well deserved vacations, and spend more time doing things for me. I was ready for the freedom that comes with my kids growing up. Then the most unexpected thing happened...
My Mom had a major stroke and I sold or gave away everything I owned to go back home to look after her. Let go of the dream of driving my zippy little black sports car through the rockies as well. After her rehab, she stayed with me for quite sometime. We were blessed to have my Uncle agree to house us so we didn't have to worry about finding a place to be. He is a saint in my eyes for all his help.
When I first saw her after her stroke, she was unable to speak, eat, or move unassisted. They kept her in the Emergency ward for almost a full week I think. There was a moment, when they had to perform life saving procedure on her with one of my sisters and I gently shoved from the small curtained bed. In those tense moments, my life with my Mom flooded back on me like waves on the beach. Everything said, not said, experienced, and felt. In those moments, the time she may or may not have to spend with my kids seemed to be most important. She was a vibrant, active person one day, and weak and helpless the very next.
With my plans for my own life on hold, we did the best we could to keep her going. There were times when she was in recovery in the Heart and Stroke ward at the U of A Hospital when she seemed to give up. Depression came and went, and frequently rears it's ugly head even now. It's in these times when my family may have seen a side of me they didn't expect. I was the black sheep, the wanderer, the artist and it was here they saw the tough single Mom come out.
With everything I had been through, the Mom in me kicked in and when my Mom was feeling particularly down and unwilling to do the work to get better, I would ask her if she liked being stuck in the hospital bed, not allowed to even get up to dress herself. She said she hated it. So I got in her face and said "If you don't want to be here then start doing the exercises from physiotherapy so you can get up and walk out on your own two feet." That lit the fire and she pushed through the tough stuff.
With the help of my sisters and my uncle, I managed to keep pushing her to be independent. One time, she refused to get in the truck so I could get her to the doctor's appointment. She was having a major temper tantrum. I told her to get in the truck or I would pick her up and put her in there myself, and she didn't weigh much more than a 100 lbs after her stay in the hospital so she knew I meant it. She nearly burned my Uncle's house down a week or so after that making apple pies a little too soon after she was released from the hospital, but she can walk, she can talk, and today she lives in her own little apartment in a seniors building close to my sister.
Now I'm not going to shine you on with a miracle story here. There were complications from the stroke that are irreversible. She is partially blind in one eye, she has limited movement of her right side, so she no longer is the active person she used to be and she can not drive her car. She does however, still have her weekend trysts with her boyfriend John. The biggest transition for us all to get used to, she is no longer the smart mouthed, sharp witted woman who loved a good naughty joke, and lots of laughter. We can no longer ask Mom about gardening, sewing, children, or cooking questions. She does not remember. The Mom we knew is not there, but there is a new one in her place. She is about 13 years old and the roles are now reversed, she as the child and my sisters and I as the Mothers.
So my advice to you, call your Mom wherever she is, say a prayer if she is no longer, and remember that no matter what she is right now, she is the reason you are here. This I am grateful for.
Happy Mother's Day!
Cole
Don't forget to check your Compass!
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