When an Onus is an HONOR

Onus:   n. A difficult or disagreeable responsibility or necessity; a burden or obligation. A stigma. Blame.

Onerous:  adj.  (of a task, duty, or responsibility) Involving a burdensome amount of effort and difficulty;  involving heavy obligations.

Being my mother's primary - to all extents & purposes, only - caregiver was frequently an onerous task, while, at the same time, an honor.  Acknowledging the latter made it possible to hold things together when the going got tough, when being there felt way more like the former. 

Mom & I shared a bright, sunny personality.  In a slew of other ways, we stood at polar opposites.  But if that had not been so, I would not have been so well prepared for helping other mothers & children with care-giving issues.  

As Mom said, old age ain't for sissies.  And being a care giver for an "older" is no walk in the park, either.  My ability to look difficult issues straight in the eye, without editorializing or attempting amateur counseling, is one of the things that has proved of great worth.  I don't sugarcoat what either or both elders & comparative youngsters are dealing with difficult times. Pussyfooting around has never been my style.  Besides, it's my experience that my older friends feel best validated by people willing to see & share (not lecture) the troubling parts of their experience.  

What a blessing that Mom openly & frequently shared her experience with aging.  As she said, her body reminded her every moment of every day that she was an "ancient."   It felt strange to her, because her spirit felt unchanged, often longing for days that seemed to her just a few short whiles before.  

Longing for Dad, utterly gone when she was only 63.  People who said, "It must be a great comfort to have experienced such a good marriage."  Intellectually, yes it was.  Spiritually, yes it was.  Emotionally?  Emotionally it was NOT.  Emotional it seemed like a great big fat gyp that Dad was gone - more than that, a tragedy from which she'd only recover when they were once again reunited.  

Longing for all the little things she once did without even thinking about - washing floors, hanging wash, making dinner, all of which she took pride & delight in doing.

Longing for her sister, who lived on the other side of the country, but with whom Mom always kept up an active correspondence.  Aunt Betty died when I was in my 20s or early 30s - Mom always missed looking for envelopes with her writing on it, always took great delight in regaling us with tales of Bets & Kay's shenanigans.  

Longing for her son, gone at 11.  A longing that softened over the years, but never ceased.  As she said, one day the sky was blue again, but never the same shade as before.

Longing for her children to have the loving, friendly, good comrades relationship she had with Al & Bob & Betty & Dot.  

It was this longing that got Mom into some of her most unhappy times, taking me with her.  Mom had an interesting trait of thinking that because she experienced something a certain way, that was the ONE way it should or would be experienced.  

I saw it in her relationship with my mother-in-law ~ ~ it deeply troubled Mom that Mom M. & John didn't have the sort of close relationship we had; she couldn't see, give value to the very precious, albeit very different, relationship they did have.   

It certainly reared its head in her feelings about her children.  In her heart, mind & soul, we should have the same close relationship she remembered having with her brothers & sisters.  If she heard something that didn't fit into her role of sibling affection, she closed her eyes to it.  It wasn't that she wouldn't see the reality, but that she couldn't.  My three older surviving siblings share a sense of connection - of childhood play, of similar cultural experiences, of family times - and even affection.  Being way younger than them, growing up in a different generational time, we share no such memories;  they share a similar communication style, whereas mine is the absolute opposite, making even basic info sharing difficult, often impossible.

That's not their fault, not my fault - just the way it is.

Ah, but it felt like Mom thought it was somehow HER fault.  She resolutely (and disastrously) closed her eyes to our differences.  Instead of making my life easier, her willful blindness to normal differences made it almost unbearable.    

What a help in dealing with my grannie clients & their families that I've been through the classic "I don't want to be a burden" challenge.  Perhaps THE toughest thing for a parent to make peace with is having to ask their children for help. THEY'RE the ones who are supposed to be proving their children with support, not the other way around. They are supposed to help us find solutions, not be a problem.  

Consider Mom.  

Because she hated to inconvenience anyone, she frequently drove us up a wall.  For YEARS, she wouldn’t openly ask us to pick up her meds or whatever at Bethayres Pharmacy;  instead, she'd say, "If you're anywhere near the drugstore, would you mind picking up...?"  John & I still using that phrase, in jest.  But it was no laughing matter at the time.   Mom stopped doing it when I stopped taking her seriously unless she asked outright. Even now, it feels like she felt we didn't value her.  Now, I realize there were way more feelings - all in turmoil - behind her phrasing.

There were so many things Mom should have told me & never did, things that would have made her decisions easier to understand, literally easier to live with.  Praise be, that in the midst of even the worst time, when I was emotionally unraveling due to what felt like Mom's flipped out ways, I still held onto the idea that being there was an honor.  

Now, as I work with grannie clients & their families, am so grateful for all I got to experience with Mom, even the wretched bits. How blessed am I to have experienced so many different sides of aging issues?!  It helps me get a sense of  what olders are experiencing, helps me empathize with youngers who lack the deep background to understand so many confusing or upsetting behaviors.

As for me, it's totally cool to be have lived out the commandment, "Honor your father & your mother."  It's rewarding to work with other older women - and, I hope, some day, men - and understand at least a glimmering of the wrenching things they're facing as they get farther & farther away from their young, still-so-familiar self.  

Even with my grannie clients, there are times things can feel a bit onerous.  But even when being present in such challenged lives might feel an onus, the burden is lightened by my appreciation that it's always & forever an honor.