I write just about every day in my journal. I use the pages to rant and complain so that I don't do as much of it here in this public space. In my journal, I write about my fears, my worries, my hopes, and my dreams. Some days I just write about how tired I am (which admittedly is not the best blog-fodder, but that's not important right now).
2012 was a wonderful year for us, but also full of many challenges. Looking back at my Year in Review, I can see that I completely skipped over some events because I got busy, or I got tired, or maybe I guess I just didn't know how to write about them.
My mom, Luza is 98 and will be celebrating 99 years on this earth in another month. She still has much of her spunk and style, but the truth is that age and passing time are taking their toll.
She is forgetting. Not just little things like what she had for breakfast, but bigger things, like the name of a grandchild, or how many daughters she has, or what city she is in. And I hate it.
It doesn't happen often, but it's very disconcerting when it does. My mother is not supposed to get old. She's not supposed to get senile. Age is just relative, right?
This past year has been spent juggling her changing needs and my corresponding emotions. She has become more childlike. I play the role of the adult.
Of course, in the other roles I take on, I'm functioning as the adult most days. I just don't like that my relationship with my mother is flipping. That I have become the caretaker. I am the one who makes sure she has been properly fed and gets her nap. She gets mean and cranky some days. It's part of the process. And I don't like it.
I don't like what it portends. I don't like the fears it brings up. And I don't like how I'm reacting.
My mom is getting old. And so am I.
I'm afraid, and I am not handling this part of my life very well. So I haven't written about it until now.
The tears feel foreign. My relationship with my mom, while not perfect, has been, for the most part, fun. But that's changing. And I don't like it. And I don't know how to write about it. So I'm cobbling together this post with the fearful words. Her life is winding down. And I'm just plain afraid.
So I spent most of 2012 swimming around in these feelings and not sharing them. Because it didn't seem appropriate for this blog. But I am intending to keep it real in this new year. And while this is not pretty, it's very real.
One of the things that my mother taught me well was how to stuff my emotions. Of course, there were never formal "Stuffing Your Emotions" lessons, still I was groomed to not react negatively to anything. So these strong and painful emotions I'm experiencing right now are stuffed somewhere in my neck and shoulders. The pain I'm not feeling, my body is feeling for me in my joints and sleeplessness.
As I'm busy trying to stuff my pain, my body just aches and practically cripples me with the unspoken grief.
I intend to get better at this. I intend to speak out more. This is, after all, the Truth. And I'm a big believer in the Truth having the power to set me free.
So I write this in part as catharsis. In part as encouragement.
To all of you Daughters of Aging Cuban Mothers. I encourage you to embrace the difficult changes and know that Life Goes On. Let's be strong models of poise and grace and genuineness for our own daughters. They deserve better.
I was listening to a song on the radio that the lyricswere saying, “His grace is sufficient for me and his strength is made perfect in my weakness”. Of course this has to do with the scripture in 2 Corinthians 12:9
“But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”
Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.”
I love you my friend and I pray this season in your life is filled with sufficient grace for each day. Thank you for your humility. For it shows Christ in the midst of your weakness.
Besote!!! Ody
Oh Marta, you speak the words I did not speak and the pain I did not speak of for the last 4 years. My mom is 91,going on 92 in August, Lord willing. She was always a strong person until her fall in ’08. I took care of her until March when my body shut down and said “Yo no camino mas” when she became in need of 24-7 care. Having someone else take care of Mami in a facility is the hardest thing I have ever had to do. She does not blame me and understands BUT the guilt will be with me until the Good Lord calls her home. My family has been very supportive and also my close friends.Being the only daughter is hard. In Cuba the whole family was always near and ready to help,but it is not so here. All I can say is that if you don’t take care of yourself too you will not be there for her. So,it’s Ok to feel the feelings. Your neck and shoulders are telling you it’s time to try and relax,maybe a trip to the chiropractor will help. Most of all, remember those of us that are on this trip with you are here anytime you need us. Bendiciones <3
I totally feel what you’re going through. My 88 year old father had a stroke a few months ago; it didn’t leave him paralzyed physically but it did do a trick on him mentally. I am the biggest chicken on this earth and your blog made me feel as though I’m not alone in the scary business of watching your parents get old.Suzy
Marta, what a dignified way to embrace this natural transition in life. Yes it’s scary, hurtful and awful. Whenever faced with a sad and difficult and yes, embarrassing moment with my parents I thought of how much they had done for me throughout my life and that this was the least I could do. To bear the inevitable role reversal, watch the deterioration, wonder if the next episode would be their last. I feel for you mi Amiga, sending prayers of support your way. Keep in mind you are not only caring for Luz but giving your children a priceless life lesson.Xoxo Mica
Marta:I took care of Mamita for more than 6 years – she died at the age of 96, almost 6 years ago. I am an only child, and went from being the child (even at 55 plus at that time) to being the mother. My mother went from old age to advanced Alzheimer’s at breakneck speed. I stopped working, and became caregiver and homemaker. My father (pre-deceased her by 15 months) was in awe of his strong wife falling apart, bit by bit.
Take time for yourself. If people offer help, take it. Don’t be more superwoman than you have to be. You are a person, and need time for yourself, and rest too.
I will keep you in my prayers. Love to you, Luza, and the family.
Mary Lynn
My prayers are with you as you go through this transition. Wish I’d been more self-aware as I went through my “letting go” experience with my mom. It sounds like you’re doing a great job.
It is difficult. My aging parents live with my sister and her family….dad is 97 with a clear mind but limited mobility while mom, at 87, is physically well but her mind is going quickly. My sis bears the brunt of it…I know it is not easy. I help her when I can.But it is heartbreaking….like you said “they weren’t supposed to get old”.
As others have said, we are showing our children the importance of family (young & old) ….take the moments when you can and “re-group”. I remind myself how so many lost their parents so young and how lucky I am to still have them in my life, my children’s lives.
God bless !
Courage dear one! Feel the feelings, talk the talk, just be YOU! Well-done.con cariño, Zelde
Live in Gratitude, my Pretty. We both have our Mothers and we’re both passengers on a runaway train to 60. I would chop off my left arm to spend one more minute with my irritating-but-wonderful Father. We waste too much time being cranky because it’s too easy to see what we don’t have. Your Mother and your stories about your Mother are a slot machine that is still paying out!
Seriously in tears…. You’ve hit home for me as well… (3) aging abuelas … And aging/sick parents although they are more mobile than I am lately and doing much better… they still have Been sick for the last 2 years! Our parents aren’t supposed to get old … I pray. Thank you as usual …you’ve voiced what I’m going thru …all my love
Marta,You just killed me with this. Not to be an editor, but the last paragraph should also be dedicated to the SONS of strong Cuban mothers going through this. Mami is 84 and has always been the strength that held everything together. Since her debilitating stroke this past September, I have no idea which end is up anymore. I’m trying to be strong and bottle everything up but it’s killing me and you just opened up my floodgates. I hate it! I hate this age we have come to that we must watch the life we knew and counted on dwindle before our eyes. I hate it. All the pics I’ve been posting on FB are just me trying to document life as I go through her house finding the little fragments. I HATE IT! I don’t think I’ve ever felt so alone in my entire life. There’s absolutely no preparing for this. Thank you for this blog entry. It made me feel a little bit less alone. I send my sympathetic thoughts and love to you as we traverse this shared and inevitable experience that we are gonna HATE more than anything we’ve ever been through! Ay, las lagrimas, I can hardly breathe. XOXO
Tearing up here too…my suegra lived with us for over a year while deteriorating with Alzheimer’s and I can relate to so much you are writing. Once the hospitalizations started and my house became full with a pregnant daughter, yerno and grand-baby who was facing a year or more of surgeries and rehabilitation we had to make the difficult decision to place her in an Assisted Living Facility that was blessedly, only 7 blocks from our home. At that point, I was breaking out in painful hives all over my body from the stress I was under. Please don’t let that happen to you…looking back, I should have reached out for more help from friends, family, churches, the community and even government help. Its hard when you are going through it to also have to figure out the difficult system but I urge you to do it now before you actually need it. Thank you my friend for sharing from your heart and allowing us into your private world. I’ve actually been wondering what was up. It’s my mental health counselor side;) Ask for help, even here, we are a wealth of information, love, inspiration and moral support. We love you!
Mica,Thank you for your affirming words in this difficult transition. I hope to get it right.
xoxo,
M
Mary Lynn,”Don’t be superwoman…” – My husband says exactly the same thing. I think admitting that has been the toughest challenge for me.
I appreciate your kind words.
Marta
Mirtha,I am blessed with a supportive family and my sisters and I take turns caring for Luza. Otherwise, I don’t think I could bear the burden.
I’m encouraged to know there are so many of us who struggle in this area.
Besos,
M
Mercy,It is a bittersweet thing to have your parents for a long time in life and yet have them deteriorate as you watch helplessly. But you’re right. Still a gift.
Marta
Zelde,Thank you. This whole “feel the feelings” thing is new and foreign. Maybe that is the best that will come of this.
Besos,
Marta
Victoria,Your comment about having your IBW (irritating-but-wonderful) father made me laugh out loud.
I have recently started wondering when I became the “glass half-empty” person.
You’re right. My mom is a gift. (And I’m a wimp. But that’s not important right now.)
😉
Ody,Then let grace ABOUND! 😉
xoxo,
M
Dear cali,Making the end-of-life decisions are difficult for all, but particularly BRUTAL in our culture. The guilt is noisy and unrelenting.
You’re right. I need to practice self-care. Another foreign concept to us, isn’t it?
Ay, Dios mio!
Suzy,My dad passed away at 88. His health deteriorated, but his mind was sharp until the end. These trade-offs are not much comfort, are they?
I feel you, friend.
xoxo,
Marta
Michele,I know you’ve been through the ringer more than most lately. I appreciate your kind words to me in the midst of your own trials.
Keep the faith.
M
Mario,It feels like we are POW’s, doesn’t it? Stuck in a situation not of our own making, that we can’t escape.
The reality and inevitability are particularly bitter pills to take. What a comfort it is to me to know that I’m not walking this walk alone.
Gracias, my friend.
Kiki,Now it’s my turn to tear up. What a lovely thing to know that I have support from my sweet cyber-friends.
I’m making it a point now to learn to reach out, get help, take care of myself. It’s a tough gig since we were groomed for selfless giving, which I’m learning is not all it’s cracked up to be.
I love you MORE.
M
I feel this way often about my husbands grandmother in miami. My husband’s father was an only child and passed away of lymphoma in 1998. So now my husband and son are the only males left on the Cuban side of the family. His grandfather died a few months before we got married, so it’s just Josefa in the house by herself. There’s a language barrier so it’s not always easy to call and check on her. I worry about her often but she’s 85, living alone with her family in different houses around her but she’s there by herself. I wish we could bring her to live with us in Texas but with my husband being in the military, we’d have to get permission first and make her a dependent and that’s just a huge drawn out legal process. I’m sure she wouldn’t want to leave Miami anyway, she’s stubborn and strong and she too stuffs her emotions. She’s had to deal with a lot, her only child dying from cancer, her husband passing away after a lifetime of marriage. I have so much respect and love for her and we can’t even communicate in conversation but she knows it and I do too. I no longer have any grandparents on my own side of the family because i’m the youngest on both sides, my parents were older when they had me and my grandparents all passed away before I was 20 years old. Knowing that she is getting up there in age makes me worry, she’s the backbone for my husbands Cuban family, she’s IT. His dad is no longer alive, or his grandfather, so when she goes it will be just him to carry on. I feel like that’s a huge burden for someone just in their late 20’s, to be the only one left. But what can you do? Carry on I suppose? It’s tough. Prayers to you and your mama, she appears to be an awesome lady!
Melinda,It’s got to be tough on him being the last one in the family. But you’re right. You just carry on.
My mom’s older brother just passed away last year (he was almost 101) and he lived alone until he was 99. Don’t know what lumber these people are made of. I just hope I got some of their genes.
Besos,
Marta
Hugs to you, my mom brought me up the same way. She is such a strong woman “de frente” was her favorite saying and “Dios dara”. Today he is turning 79 and although she looks good and she thinks she is younger taking care of great grandkids, she is sometime forgetful. Thankfully is only the little stuff but I have had to learn patience and is not my virtue. I saw her take care of my grandparent, and my grandmother died at 86 in her sleep in great health. and my grandpa was 98, and a little boy, he still was pretty good mentally but he just got so stubborn it was hard seeing my mom go through all that. Now I just pray for her and for my sister and I that we learn to understand her, that we treat her the way we would like our kids to treat us. The rest is up to God.
It is so difficult to age and have our parents age as well. Mami died 3.5 years ago and I still reach out to call her. Papi will be 91 at the end of this month and though he tried for over a year he almost died of loneliness and heart break that first year after Mami died. There are 5 of us and we all work, so after trying, Papi is in a wonderful Lutheran first level memory care facility where he is loved, cared for and SAFE. It is so NOT what we were taught, but it is as close to a HOTEL as you can get and I thank God every day for guiding us there. ( ay, este pais…. as Mami would say) He is doing so well, his mind is still pretty good and if he repeats the same news a few times, I am just glad that he can remember that there is news. I am very far away and It is very difficult to be so far away. Luckily, my siblings all work together to be with Papi and care for him every day.Abuelo, Mami’s Papi lived with us til the end, my whole life, and though I was 16 when he died, I still miss him. I am 56. He was senile, and we had only been in the US a short time and it was tough, but somehow we managed as a family and I do not remember it as a burden, it was an act of love. My mother lived with her dad her entire life until he died. When my parents married, my grandfather who was widowed told my dad he would move out so my Mom would not need to move and my dad told him he was welcome to stay always and so he did. Those are the values we were raised with and that are so hard to fulfill in this culture. Neither culture has prepared us for becoming our parent’s parents and not being la hija de anyone any more. Much love to you, Marta. There is a lot of us in this boat. Let the tears flow, my friend, it is cleansing and relieves the soul.
You are so awesome Marta. I can only imagine how difficult it was for you to write this because it was difficult for me to read, but I commend you for facing that fear which is a certain but sad reality. God Bless You for your courage and I am praying at this moment for strength for you and your family.
Diana,Is there any way to prepare for this part of life? I don’t think so. Even with role models, our reactions are our own.
I hope to grow old gracefully. The jury is still out on that one… 😉
Marta
Thanks, Mcarza.I’m afraid this is where our Cuban culture wars against where we live right now.
The stories of the amazing sacrificial women in my family are legendary. Maybe they are exaggerated in the telling?
Imagine learning to feel my feelings at this age! Who knew?
xoxo,
M
Thank you, Candice.I’m embarrassed that it’s taken me this long to be able to articulate it.
I’ll take your prayers. Gracias. xoxo
I never had the relationship with my mom that I would have liked. It causes my heart to ache. And as you know now things are strained with my daughter. Which makes me so sad. I would say enjoy the moments our Lord gives you. I think we all are fearful of aging. I love you Marti. We all love you.
Although my mother is younger than yours (turns 92 this year), it sounds like she’s a few years past yours in terms of her dementia. She remembers immediate family members but can’t really remember my father who died about 11 years ago. Even with my sister and me, she seeks reassurance that she is remembering us correctly: “Tu eres mi hijo, no?”, “Tu esposa es Sally, no?”.Although conversations with her are 95% repetitions of earlier ones (sometimes, a minute earlier), I feel that my mother is still “there”. Her personality comes through and she is still a joyful woman, even while acknowledging her loss of memory. I rejoice in whatever little of her I have left.
Courage and best wishes to go on. I don’t know how to say this and please forgive me if it sounds rude; embrace all the years that you’ve had your Mom, in a way I envy you because I didn’t have a Mom for very long in my life.