Mother’s Helpers

Precipice

Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt

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The seemingly simple fact of her husband’s death was inconceivable to Ellie. Here she stood, on the precipice of widowhood, looking down into what was an unaccountably bleak future.

“I wish I’d died with him,” she thought. “I wish it had been a car accident, and we could have died together just as we’ve lived together for nearly 50 years.”

Always able to make quick, confident decisions, Ellie found herself wandering in a desert of indecision. She couldn’t even decide which shoes to wear, dithering back and forth between two different styles.

People were forcing so many decisions on her. They had barely given her time to breathe after Tom died, acting as if her own body hadn’t been sliced right in half, and every nerve ending was screaming with pain.

“Are you going to sell the house?  You don’t need all that room.  You need to give Dad’s clothes to the Good Will or something.  What are you going to do with all his tools?”

On and on it went, and her children seemed to think she ought to make these decisions RIGHT NOW!  Nothing, absolutely nothing,  had to be done right this minute.  Tom had been buried less than 24 hours ago, and she hadn’t slept at all in that time. She was aching with weariness, loss, and confusion. And her kids were treating her as if she was no longer a viable entity; like they had to tell her what to do, as if she were just a baby.

She came out of her reverie with a snap.  One of her sons had practically yelled, “MOM!”  Pay attention here, would you?  There’s a lot that needs to be done!”

She stood, and even though she was quaking inside, there was fire in her eyes.

“You all need to go home and leave me alone. I don’t want to make any decisions today, and maybe not tomorrow or next week or next year.  You’re all being incredibly rude, and you didn’t learn that from your father and me!  Stop treating me as if I’m an imbecile who no longer has a brain.

“I’ll make decisions when I’m good and ready.  And I’m telling you, the more you push me the harder I’ll resist.  Now, I want you all to go home. Leave.  Take your superior attitudes with you.  I’ll call you when I need you, and you’d better have settled down before that happens.

“Keep in mind that I’m the one who reared every one of you. I taught you to use a spoon and a fork, and I taught you to tie your shoes.  I cared for you when you were sick, and I listened when you had a problem. You didn’t think I was an idiot then, and I’m not an idiot now.

I’m going to bed.  Make sure you lock the door on your way out.”

Shocked and speechless, they all gathered their coats and their children, avoiding each other’s eyes.  Finally, as they were filing out the door, the eldest daughter said, “I don’t understand why she was so upset.  After all, we’re just trying to help!”

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/precipice/

Dear Older Me

From You to You

Write a letter to your 14-year-old self. Tomorrow, write a letter to yourself in 20 years.

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Yesterday, we wrote to our 14-year-old-selves. Today, we’re looking ahead. That’s harder. We really don’t know if we’ll be here in 20 years, or even in 20 minutes!  But I’m going to assume I will be. I’ve chosen to follow through with this prompt rather than the one that is posted for today about looking out a window and then describing what you see. I like this idea better.

I was pleased when this picture showed up on my Facebook feed yesterday, because it really is worth 1000 words:

Dear 88-year-old Linda,

It really is still me in there, behind the wrinkles and the grey and the moustache and beard I have to deal with every day! Sometimes I’m shocked when I look in the mirror because I don’t recognize that strange old lady looking back at me.

Then I do. It’s me. Believe it or not, I’ve reached this grand old age, and I look every minute of it. By the way, I know I should be saying “It is I,” not “It is me.” Just so you know I know 🙂

I’m a widow. Terry’s body gave in faster than mine, what with all the pain from his injury to his foot all those years ago.  I miss him every day, and I look forward to seeing him in heaven.

My kids are all grandparents, some of them great-grandparents. I have many descendants, which is a delight to me, and something I wish I could share with Terry.  He would have loved seeing them all together.

I finally started writing seriously after Terry died.  I had more time, and even though I still worked for a while at my counseling office, I got busy doing some writing for publication. The rejections were hard to take. Still are. I’m not done yet.  But I’ve had a few things published, including a couple of books. My mom would be delighted.  She always encouraged me to write.

I live in a nice, adequate assisted living apartment. Because of the books, I can afford a good place.  I’ve made some good friends here, and we joke with each other about the lines of people waiting for one of us to die so they can have the apartment.  You don’t take death quite so seriously when you get to be our age.  It’s coming, no avoiding it. For some, it will be a release. Pain and old age come in a package.

I’m a year older than my mom was when she died.  I think she would have lived longer if she hadn’t had such awful back pain. I have the same condition she did, but there’s better treatment these days, and I’m grateful for that.

My mind is still pretty good. I forget silly, day-to-day stuff like where I put my glasses, but I still know who I am, and who my family is.  I try not to bore people silly with stories of when I was young. After all, we all used to be young, we all have our own stories. Some of the people here are wonderful to listen to. Others, not so much. Just a litany of their pains, disappointments in life, nobody comes to see them, blah blah blah. Doesn’t surprise me no one comes to see them.  They’re no fun.

I still love my God.  I still wear out my Bible, and the older I grow the more time I spend in prayer. The closer I get to heaven, the more real it all becomes.

I’ve had a wonderful, blessed life.  I’ve had the love of a good man, the pleasure of children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and even one great-great-granchild. One of those five generation pictures everyone enjoys so much.  A lot has changed on the political front, Things are very different now than when I was young. I know it won’t be long until the Lord comes to take His people home to heaven. Maybe I’ll live long enough for that, and maybe I won’t.

Either way, that’s my final destination.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/through-the-window/