Restlessness

It's difficult to know that my mom is sick, and be far away. I knew it would be tough, but, I guess I didn't realize how helpless I would feel. My consolation was that there are four other kids, and hopefully, they all pull together. I find myself on the phone with them, working with my sister to pull them together. I feel this ache in my heart. I feel like time is slipping away, and I'm starting to get scared. Most know that Mom and I have had a rough time of it over the last, oh I don't know- 25 years of my life, and if you know me well enough to read this blog, and keep up with it, you probably really know.

It's difficult to know I have finally started to find a relationship with her, and feel like something looms on the horizon that could take it away. Today, more scary news, and I feel this restlessness. Agitated. I'm the oldest of the five- the doer- the get it done girl. No nonsense. My sister is the compassionate one, thinking of and doing the things that are the least appealing- not really wanting to, but having the heart to do it anyway. I hope she knows that I appreciate that she's the one who will go and wash Mom's hair, or shop for pajamas, or sit for hours in the emergency waiting room. I'll happily wash the dishes, organize the family, send the email updates, make the calls- the streamlined stuff. I wish I had the heart for the other.

But right now, I'm a thousand miles away, and the stuff I'm good at.... I'm not there to do it. I feel guilty that I'm not there to make sure Dad eats a decent dinner, instead of that cheeseburger he probably just picked up at Wendy's. I'm not there to wash the laundry, or clean the kitchen. I'm far away, so I feel a little out of the loop, because I'm not there hearing what the Dr. says firsthand, and therefore, I'm not sending the email updates.

Right now, I've had to settle for being the one who calls in the middle of the day and just talks to her. Company I guess she wants, because all my life I've been told to be quiet, and she let me talk on and on for an hour and a half the other day. She has become my friend. She is the one who I call when the kids are sick. Or when I need that recipe. Or when I'm at my wits' end with the kids, and I'm thinking of running away- I can always call her because she had five kids, and she was crazy, too. I hear myself repeating to people over and over again- "I'm not sure how my mom did it.... she had five kids- and three were boys." I see myself becoming like her, and when I was younger, that was the bane of my existence, but now, I'm starting to see her good qualities, and I start to not mind so much.