Sins of the Daughter - Part 2 - The days

Day 5 - 6/19/11


   Sunday, 2 more days before I leave for home.  I am trying to hold on to each moment with my mother, to savor each look, every word.  She has company today, an older couple who were friends of my parents from before I was born.  My aunt, who brought me here to see my mom, is with them, too.  I stay in another room to avoid confusing her, but I am strangely concerned about her well being.
   I hear them talking to her and although they are kind and gentle, I am disturbed by all their questions and the expectations of answers.  I shrink every time I hear a " Do you remember....? " or  " Who's this....? " when a photograph is placed in front of her.  Somehow, I have a feeling this reinforces her helplessness and reminds her how lost she's become.
   I want to protect her, shield her from anything that could hurt her, but I know I am decades too late.  I have done my share of damage and so many incidents come flooding through my memories that I am heartbroken. Disregard, apathy, indifference, disrespect; so many images flash before me that I am stunned that this was me, my doing, my actions, my history with this woman who I've just discovered, just learned how important she was, is, forever will be.  This goes far beyond remorse, regret and shame and although I know my mother has forgiven me, I'm not sure I can ever forgive myself or ever learn to accept those thing I did, or even worse, those things I didn't do.
   Her company has left and I go into her room to visit her. Again, she remembers me and seems happy to see me.  I can't believe how lucky I've been, how receptive she's been to me.  She seems tired, mildly agitated, distracted and I realized I haven't heard her laugh, not once since I've been here.  Her caretaker is Russian and I recalled a Russian swear word I had learned.  I leaned over and said the word to her, smiling.  Kakashka - roughly translated to shit head.  " Kakashka, " she repeated back, and started to laugh.  Her caretaker heard us and reprimanded me.  " That's not a nice word, " she told me,  " It means this, " she said, pointing to my Mom's colostomy bag.  That made Mom laugh even harder.  " Kakashka, " she said again.
   When things quieted down, I told her I was leaving in two days and that I would miss her, how amazing it was to get to see her again.  When I was looking into her eyes and hers into mine, I told her to try to remember what this feels like, to have someone always there in your heart, that no matter what, she would never be alone.  She didn't answer, but she still held on to my gaze.  I started to cry and turned away.  She said  " No! ", and I turned back to her.  " Sorry, Mom, "  I told her.  " Not no, " she said,  " Know "