Fading Light and Lesson Learned

At first I thought the repeated questions were because she wasn't paying attention.  Between chasing after two small children and keeping the house clean, I was quick to grow agitated as I didn't have the patience to repeat myself over and over to another adult.  

The repeated questions weren't frequent enough to cause concern.  I blew it off as lack of focus in the midst of a busy life happening around us.  

Over time, it wasn't just the questions that were being repeated.  It started also being casual statements to start a conversation.  "Isn't the sky so pretty today?"  or   "The kids are getting so big."  It was this repetition that created a gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach.  Something wasn't right and I seemed to be the only one that noticed.

On the phone one evening with my sister I decided to ask if she had noticed the change.  I was nervous to ask not because I was afraid she would become upset with my question, but because I was scared she was going to confirm an answer I didn't want to hear.  

"Have you noticed mom repeating herself?" I asked.  I felt the breath I had been unknowingly holding slowly release as she said she hadn't really noticed, but could understand anyone repeating themselves when around the craziness of my off-spring.  I happily accepted her answer as she always has been the older and wiser sister, so of course she must be right.  

My relief was short lived as my sister began paying closer attention to the woman that birthed us.  She started picking up on the repeated questions and recurrent statements.  While I was no longer alone in my concern, my fear magnified as I could no longer pretend this was just due to the busyness of life and distraction.  This change wasn't something I could fix or something that I could expect to heal like a broken bone.  This change was something that would affect us all in different ways.  

I now sit a few years removed from the first sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.  I spent to much time mourning the loss of the way things used to be.  I was so focused on my kids missing out on the version of my mother that I grew up with, that I didn't see how much they loved and enjoyed the version they have in front of them.  

At the end of the day, this isn't a chapter I wanted to have in my story.  It's a chapter that teaches patience and acceptance.  It's a chapter that involves hurt but also healing.  It's the chapter that I learned my children have compassion that I didn't teach them to have.  It is a chapter that I can't tell you how it will end, or even what the next paragraph will look like.  However, it's a chapter being written and it's full of love, hope, and a lot of faith.