Well. This is interesting. For weeks, I have been stopping myself from disclosing what has made me so regretful about my mother's current health state. I have been agonizing over whether or not I should put it into words because then, my role in where she is today becomes real. I am currently sitting at my mother's bedside, and I have nothing else of grave importance to tend to, so I decided the time is perfect to spill my heart out in hopes of bringing awareness and also helping other individuals and families. The problem is, right before I began typing this, the book I am currently reading told me that I should not feel this way. Let me rewind.
As I wrote two posts ago, my mother suffered a stroke and ruptured aneurysm and eventually became comatose. After her initial admittance to the hospital, stories about her health concerns began to emerge left and right. "Last week, mama said she felt like she'd had a stroke because one side of her body was numb," my sister told me. "Mama was throwing up and said she felt like her head was about to explode," my brother told me. She'd also told someone else (on more than one occassion) that “might not make it to Christmas.” All of this angered me, but more than anything, it confused me. I was in a state of perpetutal confusion because my mother knew that had she told me any of this, I would have dropped everything to take her to the doctor, come see about her, followup with doctors on my own, etc… and so would my husband. "Why wouldn't she tell me?" I asked myself this question every single day for over a month straight. Then one day, I realized exactly why she didn't tell me: she did not trust how I would handle it.
Last year on December 12, I stopped by my mother's house, and she told me of an argument that took place between some of my family members. She proceeded to say she just wanted everyone to get along and be together, despite stress being one of the worst things or her health and blood pressure. Obviously as her daughter, I did not agree with this. After going back and forth about why I felt she did not need any potential stressors around her, she told me, "I need my family together. This might be my last Christmas." I immediately stopped talking, I proceeded to cry, and I did not stop crying for a few days. I cried so much that I did not fully enjoy my daughter's birthday, which was two full days after she'd said what she said.
I wasn't emotionally mature.
I did not take that as a moment to sit down and have a logical or mature conversation about exactly what she was feeling and why. I did not ask her about (what I now know to be) crucial aspects of loved ones being ill, such as power of attorney, guardianship, need-to-knows, personal wishes, etc. I did not do any of this... because I was too busy crying. I wasn't emotionally mature enough to have such a conversation.
And that is my biggest regret.
The day after she expressed her concern to me, my husband secretly went to visit her and had a talk with her for hours. She disclosed more to him than she had to me when she and I spoke the prior day (notice a pattern?), but when he left, he felt optimistic that she would no longer speak that way and would fight to be here for years to come. All I knew was, "I still have my mama; all is right in the world." I chose to ignore everything that she had said about Christmas 2020 being her last Christmas because it comforted me to do so. I also trusted her to tell me when something is/was wrong---I mean, I'd be there in a heartbeat, so "I know she'll tell me, right?" is what I thought to myself. But why would she tell me if she knew all I'd do is fall to my knees and cry? Why would she tell me if she knew I'd hardly be able to eat or function? She wouldn't. That is what I regret. I regret that I could not be strong enough and, quite frankly, be a damn adult. I regret that I couldn't put the tears away and step up in a major way that could've potentially saved my mother. And because of this, I have wallowed in self-pity and a pool of regret. But today I read something that has helped me lessen this feeling.
Living a life with regret, as you all may know, means you are living in a constant state of stress or bitterness despite knowing there being nothing we can do to change what has happened. It is of no benefit to myself or anyone else to live in a way that robs us of our joy. When I found out why my mother was sick, I took it personally. We always think it's about us, don't we? Today, however, I was reading a book that emphasized individuals learning to not take everything personally. "Nothing others do is because of you," it said. I learned that I am not responsible for the actions of anyone other than myself. For nearly three months, I blamed myself for my mother's stroke (because I did not take 'enough' action), but although I do wish I would have done things differently, what happened to my mother should have not served as a moment to magnify my flaws as a daughter.
For those of you reading this, that does not mean you should be like me. Don't ignore anyone who expresses feeling like they are in their last days or decides to be truthful with you about their conditions. Don't be the child who CHOOSES to cry and feel helpless and hopeless--be the child who asks, "What do you need? What can I do?" Be the child who says, "Lets sit down and talk about this." I wasn't that daughter, and although my mother is still here with us, I do not have the option to have that conversation. I cannot get a do-over. With the exception of a nodding her head, my mother cannot communicate with me--not even in writing. If you are able to communicate with your parents, take advantage of any opportunity to have those difficult yet important conversations. I say this because in a matter of hours, my life (and the lives of my siblings) changed. My mother became unresponsive. Now, none of us know whether we will ever get the chance to even hear her voice again, let alone have a conversation. If you are reading this, and you have the chance to talk to your parents, do right by it.
Written with love,
S. S.