theKman
Active Member
I'm sorry, but this is pretty emotional.
A child should not have to feed their parent. My Mom fed me from the time I was born until I was able to do it myself (and quite a bit thereafter; she was making me grilled cheese's until well into my 20's). Yet yesterday, I had to bring the spoon up to my Mother's lips just so that she could eat. Thinking back, maybe if I wasn't such a stressful little bastard on her, maybe she would have the strength to overcome her current situation. When she, as a single parent, was doing the best she could for me, I was too busy being selfish to notice. She dealt with a difficult marriage, a difficult son, and a very difficult son (me). She dealt with diseases that slowly deteriorated her body, but never let on. She struggled everyday with the daily chores of living, but showed nothing but joy when looking at her lone grandchild. She worked, prayed, and fought for me, yet I have so little to give her in return. And tonight, as I watched a machine breathe for her, I realized that this is the time when a child has to grow up. There can probably be nothing like seeing a parent die that can force someone to grow up. I stand by her bedside, helpless to change the situation that confronts her. I don't want to grow up right now. I want to remember her reading me bedtime stories. I want to help her make cookies. I want to lick the beaters, damnit!!! I want to remember my Mom, not as sedated and intubated, but as lively and loving. The hardest part is to see her suffer, to pull against the restraints that keep her from pulling the tubes out. My brother and I rush to her side to tell her it's okay, to try and relax, that we're there with her and she'll be okay. She may pull through, she may not. Even though the doctors say they're trying to get the fluid out of her chest and may be able to remove the tubes in a day or two, I'm trying not to get my hopes up too high. Fortunately, my brother and I both have loving wives to help us through this time. My Mom was one of ten children(the youngest), and I one of thirty grandchildren(also the youngest), so our extended family will help us get through this as well. I can only truly see this from my perspective, yet I feel for my 82 year old aunt, who has to see her little sister (my Mom is 67) suffer this way. I guess the one good thing to come of this is that it has me questioning my own health. I know I need to quit smoking, and drink less. I guess seeing those things through would be a proper tribute to the one that brought me in to this world.
I'm sorry to drop this on this board, but this really helped me tonight to get my feelings out. They don't seem quite real until I type them, then of course I start crying
Next time you RDWHAHB, please have it for Frances. She deserves it. (Thanks to Rock Art Brewery's "The Vermonster" for helping me to get my feelings out tonight
A child should not have to feed their parent. My Mom fed me from the time I was born until I was able to do it myself (and quite a bit thereafter; she was making me grilled cheese's until well into my 20's). Yet yesterday, I had to bring the spoon up to my Mother's lips just so that she could eat. Thinking back, maybe if I wasn't such a stressful little bastard on her, maybe she would have the strength to overcome her current situation. When she, as a single parent, was doing the best she could for me, I was too busy being selfish to notice. She dealt with a difficult marriage, a difficult son, and a very difficult son (me). She dealt with diseases that slowly deteriorated her body, but never let on. She struggled everyday with the daily chores of living, but showed nothing but joy when looking at her lone grandchild. She worked, prayed, and fought for me, yet I have so little to give her in return. And tonight, as I watched a machine breathe for her, I realized that this is the time when a child has to grow up. There can probably be nothing like seeing a parent die that can force someone to grow up. I stand by her bedside, helpless to change the situation that confronts her. I don't want to grow up right now. I want to remember her reading me bedtime stories. I want to help her make cookies. I want to lick the beaters, damnit!!! I want to remember my Mom, not as sedated and intubated, but as lively and loving. The hardest part is to see her suffer, to pull against the restraints that keep her from pulling the tubes out. My brother and I rush to her side to tell her it's okay, to try and relax, that we're there with her and she'll be okay. She may pull through, she may not. Even though the doctors say they're trying to get the fluid out of her chest and may be able to remove the tubes in a day or two, I'm trying not to get my hopes up too high. Fortunately, my brother and I both have loving wives to help us through this time. My Mom was one of ten children(the youngest), and I one of thirty grandchildren(also the youngest), so our extended family will help us get through this as well. I can only truly see this from my perspective, yet I feel for my 82 year old aunt, who has to see her little sister (my Mom is 67) suffer this way. I guess the one good thing to come of this is that it has me questioning my own health. I know I need to quit smoking, and drink less. I guess seeing those things through would be a proper tribute to the one that brought me in to this world.
I'm sorry to drop this on this board, but this really helped me tonight to get my feelings out. They don't seem quite real until I type them, then of course I start crying
Next time you RDWHAHB, please have it for Frances. She deserves it. (Thanks to Rock Art Brewery's "The Vermonster" for helping me to get my feelings out tonight 
