DAY 16. HIDDEN MEMORY

Write about a memory you don’t like to think about. Maybe it’s painful, humiliating, frightening, a long-held secret. Let it out as if only you will ever read it. Don’t hold back.

 

Example

           

One incident I am ashamed of and would like to forget is not being there by her bedside when my mother died. It’s something I believe a child should do for a parent, something I hope someone does for me. But it’s something I just feared so much that I couldn’t be there.

 

When my mother was first experiencing the effects of what we learned was Parkinson’s Disease, I tried to help her. I went with her to her doctor’s visits and accompanied her on test days. I took her to the other doctors, like the chiropractor, that she thought might help her. At that time, she could not walk, though she could still sit up. I was doing this while teaching full time. At times, I resented the time it took. I think I took that resentment out on her at times. When I had to lift her from the car into the wheelchair or vice versa, her legs were very stiff and she could not move them. I was rough rather than gentle in moving them into place. At other times when I had to clean her and change her diaper, I struggled with her stiff body. Then, too, I was rough rather than gentle at times. I never heard a complaint. But in my heart I know I was expressing both my resentment at having to care for her and my sadness in realizing I was slowly losing her.

 

As the disease progressed, my mother became bedridden. In the next two or three years, she lost the ability to talk, walk, feed herself, or even move with her own power. My father, my brothers, and I took care of her needs as best we could. We didn’t want her to be put in a nursing home, so my father and brother made sacrifices in their lives to care for her. I visited and changed, fed, or bathed her as needed. When I married and had a child, my visits decreased, though I still saw her at least two or three times a week.

           

She had been hospitalized twice during her illness. The first time she was in intensive care for a few days. I spent time in the hospital to be there for her, then helped out when she came home. My father and brother provided round-the-clock care, and I visited two or three times a week and made some meals for her as well. The second time was a year or two later. It was a snowy Saturday night when I received a call that I should get to the hospital. My sister-in-law told me that it might be the last chance I would get to see her. I dressed my not-yet two-year-old son, and my husband drove us to the hospital. My brother, his wife, my father, and my uncle were there. Missing was my oldest brother. My mother was not conscious. I spoke with her to tell her I loved her and I was pregnant again. Not much else except waiting could be done. The nurses directed me and my husband to an open room where I could lie down while we waited. And we did. My husband finally took my son home at about two a.m. I stayed until six or seven a.m. when she seemed to stabilize. Then my brother drove me home so I could get some sleep. They were concerned about me being pregnant, though I was less than two months.

           

My mother hung on for another two days. I attributed it to her waiting for my older brother to get to see her. It took a day-and-a-half before we could find him. This was before cell phones. He sometimes went off for a few days and would be out of touch with us. Finally, he made it to the hospital, and he had a chance to spend time with her and say his goodbyes.

           

I visited one more time, but I was not there when she died. I probably should have sat vigil next to her during that time. But I was afraid to. I guess I just didn’t want to be there when my mother died. My relatives accepted it as best considering the pregnancy. But again, I was not that far along.

           

I received the phone call from my sister-in-law on Tuesday morning that my mother had died a few hours earlier. There was no need for me to go to the hospital since they were handling arrangements.

           

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