Variations on a Theme - the Heart
Happy Easter and Passover to those who celebrate! Easter five years ago I spent with a dear friend and her family because Mom totally forgot about Easter and didn't think we needed to get together.
This time of year is tricky for me. March is my parent's wedding anniversary - Mom doesn't remember the date and the specifics get blurred with her parent's elopement, but the feelings are still very alive. She loved my dad with her whole heart then and now. She remembers it was cold, snowy and they drove to Canada in Dad's Oldsmobile convertible.
April is Easter, Mom's birthday and Dad's birthday. Springtime is full of hope and memory. The much earlier post 'Why We Keep the Things We Do' has a picture of Easter when Mom gave me a baton. To use a phrase of today - my parents aren't religious but spiritual. We celebrated Easter with color-dyed eggs, chocolate bunnies and eggs and going to church with music that always seemed larger than life to me - songs with Alleluia and trumpets playing. Whenever I go to Easter service, I can hear my parents singing.
Yesterday I went with a friend and her family to her church's Easter service. The moment the familiar melody began and people were singing Alleluia, tears welled up. As one of my favorite ministers said years ago 'we need our tomb time'. Pieces of March were my tomb time. I wrote before about not being happy. That's not true - the truth is there are moments when I'm not happy. And then there are moments like yesterday when there are tears - the tears of sorrow and of joy. Tears of gratitude for a life and family full of love. Tears of grief, loss.
My dad would say to me none of us gets out alive. It's how we handle the good and hard times. It's who we decide to be in those moments. And sometimes we need a moment, a week, a month, a year - to go inside before we can show up.
Growing up I wore my heart on my sleeve. At some point in my life, I grew a hard shell around my heart. That shell broke open and so did my heart when my dad died. And with the dementia diagnosis my heart continues to open. It may seem bizarre to some to have gratitude for life's tragedies, but in these life occurrences, I have found gratitude. Without my mom's diagnosis, I may have missed a new beautiful relationship with my sister. Without the diagnosis, I may not have been as willing to take as many risks as I do now.
During these difficult times, I have learned more of what my role is - being my mom's daughter. She likes to give me advice, teach me new things, guide me to good eating habits (yes, still). She wants to hear about my life, who's in it, what I'm doing. She wants to celebrate my triumphs, console in my heartbreaks and encourage me through trying times. My job is to let her. Let her be my mom. She has dementia, but it does not define her. Her love defines her.
Today I lead so much more with my heart. And if it gets broken, well it's only open to love more. Life is never about how much I have or what I do. It's about who I am in the crap ass hard times in life. It's about who I am in the really freakin' amazing times. Life has its natural ebbs and flows and as I have learned from growing up in the Midwest, sometimes Winter happens in Spring and sometimes flowers bloom in February.
Ok, Voyageur - tomb time is DONE! :) <3