I have had many roles in my life. From the very beginning, my first role was that of a daughter. Then sister, friend, employee, professional, girlfriend, wife, aunt - until my favorite and most important role yet: mother. I consider myself to be a pretty good mother. Mother of my kids, that is.
My dad is 80 years old because he was born in 1931. If you didn’t know that small fact, you’d think he was in his early 70’s based on how he looks. Based on how he acts and lives his life, you’d think he was in his 60’s. At least that’s what you would have thought if you met him any time before last month. For the past month, he’s been having health issues caused by a sprained rotator’s cuff, and because he is in Tampa, Fl and all of his children are elsewhere, we’ve been taking turns traveling to Florida to take care of him.
So it was my turn last week, to fly out to Tampa to take care of him and help my mother as she does. My father is one of the most jovial and driven people I have ever met. He has always been very agile, social, always moving and completely independent. When I arrived in their condo last week, I met an entirely different man. He is completely dependable for everything, with little mobility and deeply depressed. And if you have ever had to take care of someone who is uncomfortable and in pain, you would have expected to deal with crankiness and lack of tolerance, and wouldn’t have been caught off guard like I was. He was cranky because he needed help, and had little tolerance with any instructions or suggestions I had – all for his well-being and recovery, I might add.
If there is one thing I have learned to develop as a mother, it is patience. Don’t ask me how I’ve done it and where this bottomless patience comes from, as it’s been a really unexpected characteristic (and blessing) that came to me with motherhood. I remember my daughter’s first ever two year old tantrum. It was time to go home from the playground and she was not happy. As we walked home she was crying and complaining and when she realized this wasn’t buying her more time at the playground, she threw herself on the ground crying. I know exactly what I would have done before I had kids. I would have gotten angry, raised my voice to whoever was making this scene and if I could, walked away. Instead, I picked her up, shielding myself from kicks that were coming my way, as I quietly spoke to her in her ear, telling her all the wonderful things we’d do when we got home. This didn’t help much, as she cried and kicked the entire way home. This lasted a total of maybe ten minutes (though it felt like a lifetime to me), as once we got home, she immediately calmed down and got distracted with her toys. All was good and I finally had a moment to catch my breath. My daughter didn’t seem faced by what had just happened. Meanwhile, I realized as my heart raced, that a life altering experience had hit me. That day I realized how strong and tolerant we can be when love is the driving force. How understanding and forgiving love is, and how there are no conditions when it comes to the love of your child.
Something very similar hit me last week as I took care of my dad. I found myself caring for him in a way that I’ve only done for my children before. Feeding him, wiping his mouth, helping him walk, letting him hold on to me as he did… I’ve done it all, and yet I’d never done it before. A sense of responsibility and satisfaction overwhelmed me, but it was accompanied by an unexpected sense of sadness. I am nurturer, and not because I’m a mother; it’s just who I am. I have seen myself mothering sisters, friends, my husband.... Playing the role of a mother comes very naturally to me. And yet as I found myself needing to be a mother to both my dad and my mom, things didn’t flow the same way. I can’t really describe exactly why. Perhaps it wasn’t just me who felt in an awkward position being the parent. My parents probably felt the awkwardness too. It’s just not something that you grow up preparing yourself for. There are no books, no instruction manuals, on how to be a mother to your parents. It’s instinctive, yet slightly unnatural. But again, driven by love, which somehow makes it work.
But life has a way of happening exactly the way it should. Each and every experience, emotion felt, moment lived happens seamlessly and without much effort, and all of us end up living exactly what we are destined to live. And if you’re lucky enough, like I am, you find a lesson to be learned and take that lesson with you, for the next time. Playing the role of a mother to my parents was a demonstration of unconditional love, and specifically for me, it came accompanied with a lesson on forgiveness. A lesson that was years in the making…
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