If you were still here to talk to, I'd tell you all about my last few months. But the thing I would want you to understand is that my eyes were opened.
So let's get everyone caught up. By the time you moved to Texas, in your 60's, you had to now live with several handicaps. These, brought on not by age, but by an illness that nearly killed you. But you survived. You went from being a very lively social worker who jogged in the mornings, volunteered at every event you could, and caretaker of a throng of cats and humans, to a woman who needed help. You had to use a walker to get around. You had to work hard to communicate with people. You needed help now and could not be 100% self sufficient any more.
I loved that you were so close to me now, geographically. I benefited from your move as I got the chance to get to know you, your sister Adrianne, and all her kids and grandkids, my cousins.
Every week I would drive to Cleburne, sometimes with my then partner Jackie. We would grab the to do list from the fridge and whip through it checking off every item you needed help with. And while you greatly appreciated it, the thing you wanted most was for us to slow down, and sit. Get a tea or a coffee, and just sit and chat.
We were "busy with life", and so we often cut the visit part short, patting ourselves on the back that we had done our part to help. But the "doing" was not what was important to you... it was the human interaction. It was the time you got to talk and communicate in a meaningful way, the time to have discussions about life and the events taking place in our world, the time to share happiness and joys, and frustrations and anger... it was these moments that you placed the most value in.
Always, you wanted to go eat somewhere and I realize now that it was never about the food. Eating out was a way to keep us around for just a few more of those moments. Even if you were not doing the talking, the joy on your face and in your eyes revealed how much you cherished every moment of time spent with us, with me.
I finally get it. I sit here writing with tears in my eyes because... [I had to walk away because the tears were coming so hard and fast I could not continue... better now]... I sit with tears because I know I did not always provide what you needed the most. I made sure the chores were all done, but I sometimes ignored your soul, and what it needed. And I want you to know I am sorry.
I know how if you were here, you'd say "Honey, don't cry. I loved every moment I did get to spend with you... and everyone else that spent time with me." You would be gracious, and grateful, and loving.
The last two months I have been at battle with my body. I contracted double walking pneumonia that just does not want to leave. I am starting to believe it lingers because I am not getting the non to subtle message from the universe for me. The message to slow down. The message to focus on what is important. The message to pay attention to the souls in my orbit.
I am learning. I am listening. And I am acting. I know you are sitting and looking down, and nodding in approval. Proud that I finally understand.
