We live in a society where people who are on the fast track are applauded and praised for keeping up and surpassing everybody else; people who are independent and progressive thinkers, active contributors to society. This is a good thing. The bad thing about it is there no longer appears to be a place in society for those who can no longer keep pace, like the elderly or the sick. Their past contributions are tossed aside like something used up and no longer of value.
Over the past few years and more recently in the last couple of months since Dad's surgery, I've heard the word "burden" tossed around more times than I cared to hear. Of course, nobody specifically connects the use of the word in relation to mom, Kenny and now dad, but it's there unspoken. It's usually stated as a side bar, with an explanation on how they've managed their own lives so as not to be a burden on their family. And again, this is not a bad thing. Matter of fact, it's a very responsible way to go about taking care of those loose ends. However, everybody is not as well equipped to handle the reality that bad things happen to good people. So, what do we do when they do happen-- the bad stuff I mean? When debilitating illness strikes, like cancer, stroke or heart attack--and we're not as prepared as we'd intended to be. I've seen the answer to my question in the nursing homes where I volunteer for hospice. Somewhere along the road, placing your loved ones away in a home to be cared for by strangers has become the norm, the acceptable, the punishment for no longer being able to keep pace. When did this become okay?
When Kenny was sick, Joan was there every step of the way, making those trips between California to Arizona and back again. It must have been exhausting, but I don't remember hearing her use the word "burden" to describe the situation or the disruption to her life. I saw the tears in her eyes for the impending goodbye she'd have to make, but I never saw resentment. I saw the determination in her will to make sure our brother died with dignity, and in peace and knowing, that not only was she there for him in his time of need, but that she would continue to be there for his children in the years to come. And she's done all of that and more. It was during this terrible time of loss, that I learned truly for the first time, the depth of my big sister's character, her level of compassion, her devotion to her younger sibling, and capacity to love, unconditionally. I think we are closer now than ever before. Kenny never doubted Joan's love and loyalty, and knew she'd be there for him, no matter what. I know because he'd commented on it, on more than one occasion.
There are so many different ways of making people feel like shit without saying a single word. Like going through the motions of helping, of listening, of being there all the while carrying inside a lot of resentment and anger that this person's moment is keeping you from something you need or want to be doing. Honestly, I'd rather be put in a state-run facility than look into the eyes of a family member and see myself as their burden, instead of the love that I'd hoped would be there at such a time.
"I'll Love You Forever, I'll Love You For Always". Unconditionally, no matter what. I'll be there for you. The sincerity of a promise that encompasses every single moment, good and bad without censure. How many of us can love like that?
No comments:
Post a Comment