I worked in the yard hard for three hours today. I keep getting stronger. The weather fills me with joy, baby ducklings at the all the ponds, flowering trees, warm air, golden light at sunset.
This hasn't been an easy week. I've been processing the continued reality of my mother slipping into dementia. This is a picture of life with parents with dementia. I rarely drink anymore and never day-drink, but wasn't sure I could have a third day this week of the kinds of conversations I'm having right now with my Mom. So a margarita, and then just waiting, alone, and they never came. Something like coordinating the time for lunch is too confusing right now.
I will strive each day do my very best for them, but this feels like the hardest kind of marathon. I'm developing empathy for my friends in recovery who have spouses and children who are alcoholics. I feel so helpless as things slowly fall apart. I hope the landing is soft, softer than it looks like it will be now.
Kathy told me once there isn't anything you could have done to make this outcome different. I am managing what is already happening the best I can. I'm trying to guide, to assist, to help and mainly, just be present as Parker Palmer talks about. It only feels good on occasion; mostly it's painful and often, sadly frustrating.
