Tuesday, September 8, 2009

My Mom

My mom is an interesting character. At almost seventy years of age, she is much younger than me in energy and in spirit, always running around like a teenager. She has very little silver hair, with a contemporary short hair cut and very stylish clothes which contribute to her youthful appearance. At the same time she is a rock: dependable, stable, wise, a balance between optimism and reality, a balance between smarts and emotion. When I think of mom the word “balance” pretty much occupies every nook and cranny of my thoughts.
Her family comes first. But she is connected to everyone around her with these invisible ties, like a weaver she weaves, pulling many colored threads from people she knows, a life-long pattern of relationships.
When she first heard about my stroke, she didn’t shout, she didn’t cry, she felt a sense of calm come over her and she asked totally logical questions, trying to understand what next steps are necessary. After consulting with my only brother, they the earliest flight they could find and came to my help. She says that all along she knew that I would be all right. She has a sixth sense like this…
At home there is my father, who in return shows every bit of his 71 years of age and on top many more. Because he has Parkinson’s Disease he needs help, minimal albeit significant, in order to survive. None of them complain, they accept the dependency as it is. One day will we also be like them? Or will we be selfish?
In this extended stay with us my mom continues to be the rock of the family. She takes me shopping, we go to farmer’s markets, she insists that Mehmet and me go out on a date, she knits a vest for me, and of course she does all the cooking and cleaning. My friends simply adore her. Never once does she say anything controversial to us, neither us to her. It is not easy to be stuck away from friends and the rest of the family for her, in a small condo with three demanding people. She not only manages that but she is very happy to share this adventure with us, seeing the progression I make, knowing that she is a part of it.
But, like all things nice this also is coming to an end. My father is at home with my brother and my sister in law; he needs my mother as well. Although he has given a blank check, my mom knows him too well to be fooled by it.
On 24th of December Mehmet’s parents will come to stay, and mom will fly home.

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