Husband and wife for decades, love changed but not forgotten,
Old patterns long-ended replayed as though they were still for today.
To love another through their valley of diminishing.
To catch her again, not for a life time to come this time, but as she stumbles and falls in the closing years. And bleeds.
That young beloved now bedridden and only half there,
But still deeply loved, deeply cherished.
This is where true married love shines.
For she who was once mothered,
Now mothering her own mother in a confused season of life.
Their mother tongue flowing easily between them but foreign to everyone else.
To be the daughter to translate, to advocate, to seek the right help,
And make a way through all that is foreign and even more confusing.
To be financially rich and have it all, and yet broken in health and prospect.
This is where true daughter love shows.
Love new and exciting, and full of passion,
Young lovers together, with the future mapped out,
Yet walking together through suffering and hardship.
A late night visit to the hospital to seek the right help.
Questions and tears flowing unhindered, but answers less rapid and not-so-easy.
To face-up to the test of love, when all is not well.
This is where the truth of developing love is under scrutiny.
Mates and brothers and uncles and friends,
Damaged fingers and faces requiring stitches and unbending.
To speak of better days to come,
To be present more in body than with an ever-flowing torrent of words.
To remember the past days of glory, in current times more gory,
But to look beyond the brokenness and stand together as brothers.
This is where true brotherly love is forged.
I spent several hours at the hospital yesterday while a daughter was checked out. She is fine. But I was struck by the different people and scenarios rushing through the emergency department. None would have chosen to be there. But everyone who supported those who suffered showed a dignity I was humbled to observe. These are my words of tribute.
Nice. thank you for sharing your thoughts, impressions, feelings. Reading and re-reading and feeling with your words was a nice separation from the day.
Thanks Owen. Glad it spoke to you. It was both beautiful and heart-breaking to hear the conversations going on.
You did “wet the eyeball” with this one.
My Mum is in care at present.
At 95 she has had a good innings but regrettably has gone down quickly with Dementia.
So whilst her body struggles on her mind does not and it is so sad as she was a very active person until this year and has gone downhill very quickly.
I sit there and show her old photos from the past and more recent ones. I have our dog, a little Shiitsu/Maltese on her bed. At this stage she still knows me & loves the see “Annie” but I am told that will not be for long.
One almost wishes she would go quickly as she does struggle to remember to no avail.
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Not an easy season of life for anyone to endure – the Mum or the son. I heard of a husband who kept visiting his wife in the rest home; she no longer recognised him or knew anything about him. When asked why he kept coming given her situation, he simply said, “She may not remember who I am, but I remember who she is.” Keep on being a great son.