For those who do not go gentle into that good night
Dylan Thomas wrote the poem Do not go gentle into that good night for his father if I remember rightly.
Yesterday, my son and I "sprang Grandma" from the nursing home. We took her on a wheeled window shop through downtown Concord and to the Co-op, up and down side streets. Friends came over the house and we barb-b-qued.
Once over her initial dazzle of joy at the beautiful outdoor weather she sank into a fixed glare that occasionally broke out in angry vague accusations against people she could not name. "They want to do this and that!", "One day I will just rip it apart!", she was angry, vehement and staring with her still bright blue eyes. When threatening to act her hands, nails painted I noted (something she would have despised), tore at the air and her mouth twisted in rage. The food was declared "AWFUL!" When brought back to the nursing facility and asked if she had had a good day "NO!" was the answer. The LNA said the anger is nothing new and suggested we might want to visit there rather than take her out. My love related that to me, I couldn't take her back myself.
My sadness is deep, my mother was never a happy person but she was smart, talented and able to mute her anger with productivity and multiple interests. Her gardens were marvelous, her craftsmanship fine, she enjoyed making meals and choosing decor, art work, movies, plays and occasional travel. I was hoping for the joy of warm air and the coming of spring.
Then, this morning the poem by Dylan Thomas entered my head. My mother is one who would do nothing less than rage at the dying of her light, for many of the reasons enumerated in that poem my mother would burn and rage and learn too late and never go gently into her too-long "good" night.
And so I will let her be, maintain my distance, my nearness causing pain; for she did at times know full well our relationship "You Would To YOUR MOTHER would YOU?" came out of nowhere mid-day. She will sit angry and periodically rage, I will go on with her image stuck in my head, she will pass before my eyes some days like floaters, striking but impossible to catch and hold still.
When the night is near, I hope to be able to sit by her side and hold her hand and speak gentle words or remain silent if the rage needs to fill the room to make way for her going. Acceptance is not for everyone.
Smart and Unhappy
Thanks for your moving post. Your mother is lucky to have you Good Daughter. My father lives with us and falls into that same category of "never happy" but smart. A lifetime of negativity surely cannot end happily-- the angry path to the exit seems inevitable. Let's hope and pray that our own hearts and minds don't harden up like that.
It is amazing
It is amazing how a disease can cause people to behave in ways they would never have in the past. My grandmother attacked her roommate at the nursing home with her cane because she thought the woman was steeling from her. Of course, that poor woman was innocent. My grandmother just can't remember anything anymore and she would have been mortified by her behavior 20 years ago. She would have never done something like that!
I like how you see your mother's anger as her way of raging at the dying of her light. I would like to think I would fight until the end for my "light."
How difficult your journey with your mother. I hope there is some peace in knowing who she was prior to the onslaught of illness. I think of you and your mother often (there but for the grace of God...) Thank you for sharing something so personal and painful. Not everyone would have the strength to remain so steadfast in such a storm.