The care of keeping love

My Mother, My Daughter – The Rumpus.net.

I am weeping for this woman, this magic and wonderful woman who tried so hard, who deserved so much better.

I am weeping for the mother who tried so hard to bring what light into her daughter’s life she could, who also deserved better than the hand cruelly dealt.

I am weeping for for all of the children who become parents too soon, and for the anguish of the parents who cannot change this malign destiny who have to surrender to the care of their children in a world that provides nothing else.

I am weeping for a dearly loved friend who knew a life similar to this, hiding it in an abrupt and brusque manner tt times thathid the aching pain and tenderness inside, and for the gratitude that she stuck with me, too blind to see the hidden pain of her world, as tormented by my own demons they became magnified to blind me. To this day, I would give anything to go back in time and tell her then what I try to tell her now ow much she means to me, how much I value her, how damn WONDERFUL she is.

I am weeping for another friend who has managed to go through this with such dignity and grace , she provides inspiration to her children, and what help they must give they do as part of the natural love and care within a family – and i  am in awe of that, and try so hard to emulate it. I do not know how she manages to smile so warmly when I call on her – but oh, she inspires me with that smile.

And I am weeping for the feart hat my children know too much of this due to my pain and disability. Sometimes I see the little ones, faces pinched with fear, hovering asking with such adult concern if I need medication, trying to support my tall frame if I am in pain and moving to rest. The bigger ones who mother me, and care for me matter of factly – but who lost many years of their adolescence to my increasing pain and disability. For The Bloke who loves me and silently cares for me in practical ways, who never questions my need to rest, collapse. Who rescues me and gets my medications and tells me it is all ok, who loves me and makes sure my life works, supports me in my manic and consuming need to independently work and prove I am still her, I still exist as something more than the disability, more than Evil Back.

This weekend I have struggled with medication changes, and for a few days I faded and was diminished, and their gentle care and nurturing, their determination to be cheerful and nurturing, and their unwavering support – oh gods, let me  be worthy!

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