To truly listen to her as she communicates her needs.
To truly listen to her in the smallest of decisions knowing that autonomy is a human right.
To truly listen to her in the difficult decisions that are easier to make once and then walk away from, but are essential to visit and revisit until her voice is acknowledged and her heart at peace.
My Tia and I made a trip to the ER this morning at Kaiser Redwood City because mom's NG (Nasal Gastric) Tube had come out of her nose partially. The nurses were kind, thorough and adept, which made our tiring 6 hour stay much more bearable. They replaced the tube gently and gave us some tips for future maintenance, which have been very helpful. Apparently, NG tubes are not typically used for this long. I can imagine why.
We had a couple of visits planned today, but I'm afraid the day just got away from us. For those of you who where not able to come, I'm truly sorry and will get in touch with you about rescheduling soon.
I confess I find myself weary today. Laid low by a world that insists on turning when it ought to know damn well that time stands still for this moment. Each day comes with its distractions and demands on my time. I make lists that sit scattered about the house met more with good intention than accomplishment.
Slow down, she says. Just go slow.
She still gets frustrated with me. She still gazes at me with those adoring, all-knowing eyes that turn me into a child again. She still flips me off. She still hugs me longer. Today my mom is still my mom. Today I have her and stubbornness and her tenderness and her wit. I saw all of those beautiful faces today. I was sad today, but I was strong. Because tonight my mother wished me good night like she has so many other nights.
Sleep with the angels, baby girl.