Mom, continued

The last picture of Mom at her condo, as beautiful as ever, serves to remind me how much keeps changing...now when I see her at the nursing home, I'm struck by the swift melting of her form and function into ever new modes of aging.  The wisps of her long gray hair captures in thin ponytails, her scalp visible, her eyes looking cloudy, her hearing shot.   She locks onto me like a laser beam for about a minute or so before the distraction sets in, and isn't talking much anymore:  "I'm listening..." she likes to say, but I know she isn't hearing all that much so it's her way of saving face.

When I do my Sunday runs I have her and Dad on my mind, as Sunday is visiting day for me.  No matter how stressful or busy the week has been, or how many clients I have on my mind, nothing trumps the challenge of what my elders endure.  I feel as if I owe them/her this weekly reminder that a loved one is near, someone who sees her for who she really is beyond the little old quiet lady in the wheelchair.  For me, my mother is a complex woman who endured historic and personal chapters I have limited appreciation for, being the generation which benefited from their great sacrifices.   But most of all, she gives me courage to keep my perspective on my own aging process, and to appreciate every ability I have.

The Sunday run, is my affirmation of courage, hope, endurance and the persistence of Vision to become...what my dreams, goals and aspirations inspire me to do, and what my Spirit gives me the courage to pursue.  I know my parents often wondered how and why I did things in my life, but they never discouraged my hopes and dreams.  The unconditional love they built in me is a fraction of the love I try to show Mom, to be there for her, see her, hug her, before moving on.  On some level somehow, I know our Best Selves are celebrating every moment we can share along the way.