Becoming a child without a parent is a strange adventure in this life.
I say adventure, because it really is just that.
It is so much more than just an experience.
It is an adventure in the mind of life.
That may sound strange, but it is true. The adventure of the mind of life.
How little we understand about the human mind,
the human soul,
or about life at all.
I find myself wondering where my mother goes when she leaves.
I look at her with child like bewilderment of not understanding.
Yet, she is now the child and I the adult.
How strange to not have a mother to share my life stories with anymore.
How strange to not be able to have that woman who was there to comfort me in my youth and beyond,
who even though she may have not understood my beliefs, my ways or thoughts,
she always believed I could walk on water.
My mom always thought I could fly.
She believed in me like no other ever has.
No matter how angry she has made me through the years,
No matter the crazy a*s sh*t she has said, did or lied about doing.
No matter how much she has scared me with her wild woman ways.
No matter how badly she has hurt me with her words and actions at times.
No matter how I often knew she was manipulating me,
She has been my one trust cheerleader.
Actually cheerleader does not do her justice here.
She has always, until recent years been that faithful disciple.
I say disciple, because she did not lead.
She pushed me up.
She put me on the pedestal that she believed I should be on.
Like I said, she has always insisted that I could walk on water and fly.
She saw wings on my back and wind beneath them, when I thought I was trash.
All this attention and never being able to do wrong in my mother’s eye’s has made me who I am today.
I often think, “Wow, Kendal you sure think a lot of yourself. ”
Then I hear the programs of our society kick in and shame me for doing just that.
Then I realize that this is what I help people over come EVERY day.
If we do not love ourselves and think highly of ourselves, then who will?
If we do not believe we have wings, then how will we ever fly?
If we do not believe that we can perform miracles, then how can we?
If we do not believe that we are worthy, then we are not.
My mom has always pushed me in one way or another to BE ALL I CAN.
And supported me whenever I said, ” This does not feel right, good or in alignment to me.”
This is why it is so heavy on my heart to see this woman become the child.
I watch her daily deteriorate more and more.
I see her fear in her eyes.
I hear the anxiety of it in her voice.
I see her looking at her aging hands that now shake so badly that she can barely hold her coffee without dumping the whole thing.
I see her shocked at her gray hair,
At the hairs that grow on her chin.
I see her concern and worry when she realizes that she has no clue what day it is,
What she ate or if she ate.
I see her panic as she believes the nightmares that run through her as reality as she shares them in great detail with me.
I see her frustration as she realizes that she has no clue what her grand child’s name is anymore.
And I feel her pain, as she runs from the loss of herself and thus the loss of her life.
There is nothing like watching some one vanish before your eye’s while their physical body remains,
breathes,
heart beating,
but they are no more.
She is no more.
She is gone.
She is no longer that woman with wise words and tales.
She is no longer that woman that gave advice from her depths of experience.
She is no longer that woman who could hold space and let me cry or freak out.
She is no longer a mother.
Now I am in her role.
I hold space while she cries and freaks out from her loss of memory.
I give advice when she asks me, “”How am I going to over come this and have my own life again? Do you think it’s to late? I sound crazy.”
I share the wisdom I have gathered in my life and recall from her tales.
I am the mother.
She is the child.
Becoming a child without a parent is a strange adventure in this life,
For sure.
But this is the story that so many of us will live with our parents,
and perhaps with our children.
As we age,
as we grow,
as we awaken,
we too die.
Here is the tale of dying before death takes us.
The tale of living with dementia.
Here is the a tale of awakening one morning to this strange adventure.
I will not live like my mother.
For in her wisdom, that breaks free from its shackles of memory loss and fear,
” I wish I had lived more.”
” I wish I had loved more.”
” I wish I had had the courage that you do.”
“Honey, you can fly! I know you can. I see your wings.”
So what are you waiting for?
Come fly with me!
My mom say’s we can…
So let’s!
And remember,
Stop Existing & Start Living
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