When you’re trying to get your aged mom awake and out of bed like she tried to get your sleepy bones awake and up and at ‘em when you were a kid.
Tables turn.
She’d rather sleep; I want her to be awake. She weakens; I lead her through physical therapy exercises. She doesn’t care to eat; I insist on a cup of ice cream or cheeseburger or junk food.
I have lots to learn in this stage—about mom and myself and our family dynamics and the fragile edge of holding on and letting go.
Is this just a momentary low phase or are we nearing the end? How much should I endeavor to inspire her to live on? Or should I accept her apparent resignation and cooperate and assist?
Whichever or whatever the direction may be, she just likes me being there whenever I can.
Life is precious. And in this stage the line is thin.
Sigh.
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