"You look like your mother."
I've always loved hearing that. I have a gap between my two front teeth that I inherited from her. I fixed it in youth with braces, but it's slowly crept back, and I wear it with pride.
"You're so like your mother."
That's one I rarely hear. And if you'd asked me 10 years ago, I wouldn't want to hear that. Now, I find myself pleading for an ounce of her strength.
We watched my grandmother slowly pass. My mother was her primary caregiver, and she sacrificed so much to keep her comfortable. She made it look so doable. My sister and I had no clue what it took. She was working, raising us, caring for her mother, and doing it -most of the time- with a smile. She was superwoman. But there was so much she had to handle that I couldn't see. So much that she didn't let show in order to stay strong for us. And now, it's my turn and I feel like I'm failing.
My mother started showing signs of cognitive decline during the pandemic. I didn't want to believe this was really happening again. And to the person who I feel least deserves it. I mean, absolutely no one deserves this, but least of all her! Hasn't she been through enough? Hasn't she earned a happy life, and a dignified death? This was the stage where we started throwing everything at the wall. None of us were ready to take it lying down, but the pandemic made it difficult to make real progress.
A couple years pass, I start to think I'm no longer in denial. I thought I'd accepted it, and I was ready to take on the challenge. I thought this time I'll do everything right. I learned a lot and I know more about this disease, I have what it takes to face this and stand at strong at her side.
It's different this time, though. And every day that I think I have things under control, I am humbled again. Some days, I'm strong and capable; others, I'm weak and out of my depth. I feel like I'm failing more often than not. If it hurts this much now, I'm terrified of what lies ahead.
I can't shake the resentment of how deeply unfair it is that she has to slowly deteriorate like this. My hero whose greatest passions are learning and teaching others. A woman who has sacrificed so much, and did so happily because she loves to help others grow and flourish more than anything else. Why her? It's hard to rank, but I think that's what hurts the most. It hurts more than missing her, it hurts more than feeling like I still need her.
No one tells you grief compounds. For me, i'm cut once because of my empathy for her suffering, and again for my own suffering. Watching her slowly lose parts of herself is torture, but it's most painful knowing that she has to feel it happen. I know there will likely come a time when she forgets who I am. But I'm also worried I will forget who she is. I'm not ready for past tense.
When I started typing this, I declared that I don't feel like I'm becoming more resilient. But I realize now that this feeling comes and goes. Writing it all down helps.
In spite of the pain and fear, there are days when I feel hope. I feel grateful that I'm not alone; I have my sister at my side. I feel grateful that I've had her for 33 years, and that she has loved and protected me every second. I feel grateful that I have the chance to return even an ounce of the love, compassion, and care that she has given me. I feel grateful that I know for a fact that she loves me, that I know she's proud of me, and that she knows I feel the same for her.
I'm grateful she annoyed me. It's crazy how you start to miss the things that you used to find SO annoying about the people you love. She talked SO MUCH. She never stopped talking from the moment she woke up to the moment she fell asleep. It was almost like she knew there would come a day where she couldn't find the words anymore, so she wanted to make it count. I'm grateful that I had the chance to hear what she had to say. I'm grateful that I know she did pretty much anything she set her mind to in her life. That her regrets are few. I'll try to focus on these things, rather than the things she'll never get to do.
Whatever comes next, I'll try to remember to feel grateful that I get to be by her side as she inches toward the finish line.
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