Suddenly there is a shift in the breeze and life blows in an entirely different direction. Words like "palliative care" and "hospice" are in our vocabulary and friends are rallying round to feed the dog, leave pizza in our kitchen, and show up with a phone charger for me at the hospital. I'm learning there are so many ways to spell the word, "love".
After twenty years of wondering, "What is wrong with my mother?" we finally have an answer. It would have been good to know sooner, but it explains everything. Progressive Supranuclear Palsy, diagnosed with an MRI. Leave it to my mother to live way beyond the projected lifespan for this disease. It will ultimately take her life, but she has fought a good, hard battle with this invisible enemy. It has battered and broken her, taken away her speech and her smile, and yet she survived.
So, I find myself once again trying to hoard memories and there are too many. They feel like thousands of balloons that I'm trying hold onto by scooping them into my apron. The more I scoop, the more that tumble out and can't be gathered. It's an impossible task yet I feel compelled to keep trying. My father, my sister, and now my mother. So many memories. Lord plant my roots deep and help me stand strong. The wind is blowing and the balloons won't stay in my apron.