For some reason, I feel compelled to provide updates because I've been MIA for several months, but that's not what I want to write about. So I'm just going to start where my thoughts are now, and let things flow.
I've been out of work since the end of August. I've totally enjoyed this time away from the daily grind, the expectations that go along with work and projects and showing up in meetings. Today is a day where I've found my mental processing and my emotions connected to things of the past. People who have died, my parents and aunts and uncles in their younger years, pets who are long gone, experiences that are deep in my history but formative to my current state. I'm not sure what that's about.
Okay. That may be untrue. Two weeks ago, I spent 4 days with my mom while my dad took a quick vacation to Atlantic City. She is diabetic and she is also clearly suffering some form of dementia. If it's diagnosed I don't know about it. What I do know is that I can no longer have a conversation with my mom about my life. We can talk about my kitties, or the kitties I feed on the street, or maybe a quick story about one of my friends. Her ability to follow along in conversations is questionable, and too many details visibly confuse her. I've asked her if she remembers specific things--like the theme song to Winnie the Pooh. My mother loved Winnie the Pooh so much that she nick-named my sister Pooh Bear. I have fond memories of my LP records of various Pooh stories, narration and music and all.
Today while walking to the PATH train, I recalled a time when I had outgrown WTP, and wanted to get rid of my albums. She was so sad. I thought it was so ridiculous. I wanted to be grown up, you know. None of that kid stuff. I wanted to forget Pooh, and his fluffy self. The paradox struck me today that I would love to talk with my mom about Pooh, and listen to the song or watch a Pooh video. Our roles are now reversed. She has, in essence, forgotten Pooh and I am so sad. Perhaps we could watch Pooh, but she would not recall the stories, or the fond memories, like she would have even ten years ago. And she definitely wouldn't sing along with the song.
I've so many more things to share.
For those who remember the book, Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret? I am feeling a little like that right now. Meaning, I am having many conversations with God about this phase of life. It's not different from what others have or are experiencing. I feel awkward and ill equipped, kinda like the title character, Margaret. And that's my current truth.