I went to stay with my mum and help her through the first week back in her own home. I expected it to be nerve wracking and uncomfortable living in my familiar childhood environment…..prodding all the complex memories to the forefront of my mind..and all this in the company of a recovering heart patient rather than a robust parent….. but instead it was a major learning opportunity.. I found out that I am not as fearful of illness as I used to be..well..strictly speaking I have gone through three stages now.
A child fascinated with dissection and the world of creepy crawlies and with the sole ambition to be a vet,
to the squeamish adult that won’t touch it can’t look at it .. all death is an echo of my own..
but now I’m entering the ‘ Oh that is what it looks like’ (which is something in between I think)
I believe I learned to watch over this week……always so quick to react I found myself observing and learning….about myself and my mother..seeing her not purely as she relates to me but as a woman of 75 who has gone through an overwhelmingly powerful experience and has lived to tell the tale. I realised just how much she locks in..how much she doesn’t say and how I say too much to fill the void.
I thought this evening about her mended heart and wondered if something else could be mended..if through all this I might finally begin to understand her.
