This week did not go as smoothly as others. I always wake up grateful for the life I have been given but there are days, sometimes weeks, that are more stressful than others.
My mother, who will be eighty-six in December, has been living with my husband and I since the end of July. We brought her here to Los Angeles, from her home in New York City after the lung cancer she was diagnosed with six months earlier spread to her liver.
My mom enjoyed a seven-and -a-half year remission from an earlier lung cancer and the new growth in her right lung was said to be unrelated to the other, which doctors have confirmed remains in remission.
This time I wanted to be the one to care for my mom. I wanted to help her and spend time with her while she went though all of her treatments. I wanted to find the very best oncologist who could help my mother both medically and emotionally though this difficult portion of her treatment and life.
Our relationship has always been a volatile and complex one. Our temperaments are polar opposites; my mom is always being asked to lower her voice and I am always asked to raise mine.
My father and I had a very loving relationship and my mother sometimes viewed me as her competitor. I don't remember a time when I was growing up when there was ever "the three of us." There was me and Dad, Mom and Dad, and only occasionally, Mom and me. We were proof of the idiom that "three is an unworkable number."
All of this changed when my Dad died. I was just turning twenty-one and about to have my first big hit as a songwriter the day my father died. All that was left in his dreary hospital room was a dull green wall with a pop music chart, taped on it, which he had his nurse put up for all to see. My song was beginning its climb to number one, and my Dad circled the song and put a red arrow pointing up. He was very proud of me.
After my father's death, I began what was to become a wonderful career as a songwriter, and my mom, after years of too many martinis, became a member of A. A. and today has thirty-four years of sobriety. She also switched from being jealous to becoming my press agent and using the perks that come with success in the most creative ways. For example, she would carry around my promotional CD's (compilations of major artists singing my songs) in order to get herself upgraded when she would come to California to visit me.
This confirmed what I already knew, which was that I grew up with mixed feelings, just like everyone else. The constant in my life has been that even when I wished that my mother was different, l love her and when she's ill I'll go to extraordinary lengths to try and keep her alive. With a stage four cancer, I realize how precious whatever time we have together is.
It's as if one day, I just got it: at any given moment we all are just doing the best we can.
Maybe in a half an hour, or a week, or a year, we will do better, but for the moment, given the tools we have been given, we are doing the very best we can. After all, "if you only have a hammer, everything looks like a nail," as they say. In studying different spiritual teachings I have been given additional tools that have helped me to begin to change. In the last seven years I have been studying Kaballah, with a group of woman friends in Los Angeles, and it's helped me learnthat every human being is a work in progress. Kabbalah teaches, "Any pain, disappointment, or chaos that exists in our lives is not because this is how life is meant to be, but rather, we have not yet finished the work that brought us here."
It means putting myself in another person's shoes and it means forgiveness. Today I see my mom as one of life's great characters. She is strong, braver than any woman I know, beyond funny, smart, resilient, and loveable.
Other than an occasional bad day where my old buttons get triggered, I welcome each day I can take my mom to chemo, go out for a light lunch, or visit with members of our family I have not been used to seeing. I have come to accept and respect her choices, many of which were and are still different from mine, and I honor her. She gave me my life and I will never be able to thank her enough for that gift.
Giving Back: This week for me giving back like the rest of this week's column is personal, and my charity of choice is cancerresearch.org/.
You could also check out Kabbalah.com. I particularly enjoy reading their daily message they email to anyone who asks. Whatever spiritual and religious beliefs you hold, the message always sets a tone of awareness for the day ahead of me.
Above all, I suggest you google the cause that touches you and see what opportunities to give back you may discover.
Have a great week,
Carole
When we lost my mother, my father found he couldn't handle being in the home which had been the main focal point of many a family gathering, and this alone caused havoc for me when he decided to sell and move in with us[my home]-
I had just turned 40, but felt as though I'd been transported back in time to my childhood, which brought up many other issues to deal with, but I realised I was not JUST his daughter, I was also a mother and a wife which led me to finally 'speak my mind'.
We got through the many changes, and I find now, I am able to speak more freely.
You, like me, managed to find a 'balance', and with it, a new relationship! You have accomplished so much in your career and now, your mother is sharing it in a new light.
Things can only get better!
Debbie Stevens
i have friends who were never able to let go of their anger and they carry it with them long after their parents are gone.
thank you for writing this. I am sending it to two a friend of mine who still has a chance.
I found myself taking care of my Mom for over two years as she declined into later stages of Alzheimer's...and believe me it truly is the long goodbye. It was the first time I availed myself (for her) of social services since she needed 24/7 care and I was doing this alone and needed to work. I had also moved her into my home.
I was very grateful for the people that came into our lives to help; from the adult day care center staff( were she got a grant that reduced tuition) ,to the doctors, and the home aides that cared for her til I got home.
Being a caregiver is the hardest thing I ever did. It was stressful and it took over my life (though I fought it).
There was something very healing and beautiful in the journey as well.
your mom did a good job of raising you.
I thought it was just me but reading your words lets me know I wasn't the only one. As a result my relationship with my mother was also strained---and remains that way today. I wrote about it briefly in my book--but chose not to go into great detail shince she is still alive.
Thanks so much for sharing that.
I am so deeply moved by this post...
You have touched my heart!!
Thank you for sharing your truth and
your wisdom...and your healing!!
I will send prayers for you and your mom.
Minka