Being a Daughter at 60.

My mother at age 94 lives in the home she and my dad purchased in retirement. Her eyesight is failing, her hearing isn’t so good.Therre is an occasional comment about moving to a nursing home. It’s followed by a compelling reason why it wouldn’t work for her. My siblings and I committed a few months ago to doing our part to help her stay in her home. My eldest sister lives nearby but she travels for months at a time so the rest of us plan week (or longer) stays so mom has family near her. We assure her it isn’t because she needs us; it’s something we want to do.

I’m with my mom now. It’s day 7 of an 8 day visit. Day 5 was the most difficult. She was short-tempered and I was impatient.  I’m not here to dwell on it. It’s just a fact. Typically I come for 4-5 days but I’ve promised my siblings I will come for up to 2 weeks at a time when needed.  You could say I’m in training for the eventuality of a 2 week stint. I’m building my endurance for my mother’s negative outlook on life. I’m growing my capacity for stillness. I’m learning to adapt to a very loud television/radio. I’m building acceptance of being away from my own life for increasing lengths of time. I’m creating a life here that allows for exercise, yoga, writing and just being me.

At times the disconnect between my love for my mother , my awareness of the size of the hole her death will make in my life and the challenge of being together is immense. It takes an awareness of our relationship in its entirety and a certain amount of letting go to be myself with her. I am her youngest child and she would tell you I’ve always pushed her limits to get my way. The dynamic is hard to shake but I’m working on it. I want to be at peace and share peace with her. I am a mature adult as well as the baby of the family. I seek the balance between the two so I can be her daughter and be myself in a way that is a comfort to her and true to me.

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