Mum says, over breakfast, when I ask what has caught her attention - she is staring, fixedly - into the middle distance.
'That plant', she says, gesturing the lemongrass in a pot, 'what can I see beneath its feathers?'.
Leaves, Mum, I say, 'beneath its leaves'.
Beneath its leaves, Mum confirms, apparently unfazed.
Nobody else at the breakfast table seems to notice, least of all my husband who nonchalantly continues to plough through bacon and toast.
Only I feel the belly kick.
Feathers for leaves.
Do I take every slip, every wrong word, every lost name, as a sinister step into the dark. Away from me. From us.
When we were small, on a farm in Africa, the generator was turned off at ten every night and a hurricane lantern was lit to illuminate our way to the outside loo. When it was turned off and I watched the glow fade, I was struck by the fragility of the mantle from which that hot bright light had emanated all night.
If I touched the mantle it would disintegrate as dust between my fingers.
Sometimes I worry mum's mind is as a mantle. The hot bright light of her dazzling intellect has faded and what is left is gossamer thin and brittle .
Dear friend, this new blog, this record of keeping and of letting go in oh so many ways, is important work. So many of us are caregivers to beloved parents, precious spouses. Every relationship is fraught with conflicts, old wounds, grand passions, and the extraordinary beauty of the familiar, the small and everyday moments that make up our shared lives. The hardest thing about this caregiving for me has been the sense of isolation and the fear that in my impatience or exhaustion or fear I am not honoring the vast history of love we two have created and lived through together. It is so hard, often devastatingly isolating. I am tremendously comforted when I read others' experiences and recognize bits of my own. Thank you. I know it is not easy. I feel the deep love you have underlying trying to keep mum.
ReplyDeletethank you K. yes. I hear you, the isolation, the impatience. And likewise, I am so comforted when I am not alone in feeling those things. A friend said recently that to care for a parent was a noble thing. I told her I did not feel very noble very often. I often just felt impatient. So thank YOU x
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