Chapter six:

     As a young boy growing up with my other siblings, I watched my mother wear so many hats.  Now, as a full-grown man, I am even more amazed at how she did so much with it only being her.  My mother was everything to a whole lot of people, and by being so, I watched how it wore her down.  Still, she never spoke about how tired she was.  She just kept pushing and moving, and pushing, and moving.  

     What I learned more than anything from watching my mother was that she had a heart the size of Jupiter, and she shared her love with anyone.  It was like she never met a stranger.  It didn’t matter if it was a neighbor at church, a stranger in the grocery store, or a co-worker.  My mother always seemed to attract new friends and treat them all the same: with love, compassion, and empathy.  

     I’ve always wondered why Mama was so loving and giving.  I didn’t get my answer until I was a lot older.  One of her neighbors who had known her as a young girl told me that my mother reflects the upbringing that her grandmother gave her.  My mother was raised by her, and when I heard this, it made perfect sense.  My grandmother was so classy and so loving.  She was the sweetest person I knew, next to my mother, of course.  My mother’s neighbor also shared that as a young girl, my mother was taught how to care for others.  My mother was a caregiver, but not just for the sick and ill; she cared for everyone.

     Fast-forward to today, I think it makes perfectly good sense for me to care for her.  Out of all of the traits and qualities I reflect on my mother, it’s my ability to care and love for her that I am able to connect with.  In order to effectively care for her, I must love her.  I also believe those two traits go hand in hand; they must be present in all capacities when attempting to meet the needs of others with dependencies such as hers.  

     During a trip to a rehabilitation session for my mother, I observed how healthcare professionals interacted with other patients.  As my mother received physical and occupational rehabilitation, there were others present who also had suffered from similar ailments as her: stroke, brain injuries, motor vehicle accidents, and more.  Their degree of disability varied, but what they all had in common was a need for the assistance of others.  I witnessed how the therapists managed each individual.  It was obvious that the goal was to improve their client’s quality of life and lessen their dependence on assistance, but getting to that place required some work.

     I learned that it required a genuine love for people.  I believe that the therapist must have really loved their work and, most importantly, loved and cared about their clients.  I also felt as if I was in a familiar or sort of friendly and accommodating environment.  Possibly because I embody those same qualities and depend on them daily while caring for my mother.  

     As I continue to care for my mother, I am at peace knowing that not everyone is equipped to be a caregiver.  It is not for everyone.  It doesn’t mean that I am better or greater than anyone; it only means that I have decided to allow my heart to lead me.  I am so grateful for the opportunity to show my mother how much she is appreciated and that all of her hard work didn’t go unnoticed.  She deserves to be loved each and every day.