STORIES OF HARDSHIP, HOPE AND HEALING

We often take on the role of family caregiver because the alternatives aren't acceptable to our families or ourselves.  Along with the responsibilities of caring for another come those often-discussed negatives - frustration, stress, exhaustion, indecision, sadness, uncertainty, confusion and guilt.  Too rarely do we hear how the experience of serving as a family caregiving can be an opportunity to expand our vision, touch new depths of compassion and gratitude, and reassess our priorities.  The caregiver experience can also be an opportunity to deepen a relationship with a parent or heal one that has not been healthy or positive.  Caregiving offers a rare chance for such growth and deepening that might never come again. Lois S. generously shared her story.

"I always had a very difficult relationship with my mother.  I could barely stand to be with her even one or two nights, and here I was thinking about bringing her to live close to me.  I spent a lifetime wanting a better relationship with my mother, but I had no clue how to fix it.  We just couldn't communicate. I maintained a cordial but rather superficial relationship with my mother.  Now the state of her health was changing everything.

I began having conversations with my husband about the possibility of moving my mother closer to us.  My brothers were angry about the plan to move Mother.  They couldn't believe I wanted to take her away from her friends and from where she had made her home in her retirement. However, they weren't the ones who were making the constant trips to Florida.  I was hoping that this could be a chance to know this woman who I had, for so much of my life, absolutely resented and certainly didn't understand. That, in fact, is exactly what happened.

As her disabilities increased and she became less and less able to carry on independently, she gracefully and graciously welcomed the opportunity to have shifts of hired caretakers help her remain in her apartment.  When Mother was weak and tired, we would often sit together. Quiet was okay. Doing nothing was okay.  Just being there, being quiet with her was healing.  I learned about silence, about not needing to be doing something all the time.  That was a special lesson that I was privileged to have learned, and I treasure it.  She had a zest for life, and even in her illness she taught me how to take each day as a gift and simply live it, enjoy it.  We never talked about what had happened to our relations in the past.  We just let it grow and change, and we both sensed a mutual acceptance emerging - and love.  We really got to know who each of us were, and we both really enjoyed every minute of our new relationship.

We never had those heart-to-heart talks on the meaning of life that I so often thought I craved, but each time we greeted and parted, our hugs got tighter and longer.  Early on I had begun saying to her "I love you", and she immediately responded in kind.  When she was dying in my arms, I whispered, to her that I really loved her, and I knew she had heard me when it mattered and I heard her, too.  My experience of caregiving was, for me, a special gift."

During the weeks ahead I'll be sharing with you other stories of family caregivers that I collected for my book, The Gifts of Caregiving - Stories of Hardship, Hope and Healing. For me they've been comforting, supportive and inspiring. I hope for you as well.

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