The Numbness

I cry.  And then I cry.  You know that cry where you try to keep anyone from hearing it because you just need to sob and don't want to talk about it?  The one where your shoulders heave and the back of your throat hurts as you try not to make a sound?  I just did that.  Again.  It happens so frequently that I don't want to burden my family with it every time.  So I weep quietly.


My brain seems so muddled lately.  Partly because it's been 110° or more for the past week.  But mostly because my soul is in such a state of unrest.  I feel no peace.  I don't feel God.  I know He's there.  My faith is good; it's strong.  I just don't feel Him.  And I know faith isn't based on feelings.  Which is good since I'm not feeling stable in any part of my life right now.  We have our big, new, beautiful, forever house that we have been in for 2 months, but I can't let my mother live in it because I can't tend to her every minute.  I have a beautiful home on the market that I can't sell because the economy is so scary.  Work has changed and will demand my understanding and cooperation.  And it's hard to formulate a thought.  And that scares me as I brush away thoughts that I, too, will be afflicted with this life thief as my mother has been.


I feel tired.  A lot!  I am grateful for the days when the assisted living aides don't call, or my mother doesn't call because that means she's doing okay.  For the moment.  I want to call her.  I want to call daily, but I haven't quite gotten the hang of stepping into her world without it crushing mine.  She's my mom!  And I can't do a thing to help her.  She won't remember if I call.  She doesn't remember when I've visited.  I write it on her calendar and then have to remind her to look at it when she says no one comes to see her.  She's angry.  And lonely.  She's aware enough to know what she wants and how sad she is but then can't bring my image to mind when I remind her that she's talking to Laurie on the phone.


My husband said the most profound thing to me the other day.  He said "Even though she might not remember that you were there today, for that hour or two that you are there, she knows she is with someone she loves, who loves her and she will be comforted for that piece of time."


Thank you my sweet husband for saying the exact right thing at the exact right moment.  I love you!


L