My mom just died. She was 87, and had been suffering the effects of several heart attacks, strokes, diabetes, and other problems, which made her wheelchair-bound
I was her 24/7 caregiver for five years. I helped with wheelchair transfers, cooked her meals, cleaned her apartment, went with her to every one of her doctor's appointments, and did her laundry.
I arranged for an eye test, causing her to have eye surgery, when I realized that she wasn't simply frail, but almost blind. She simply loved to watch good war movies, and the news, when she could finally see!
I cooked her favorite foods, the ones that she taught me how to make when I was very young. In return, She taught me how to make perfect chicken breasts, juicy and tender. Yum!
Every time that I helped her with transfers to and from her wheelchair I gave her a hug and a kiss. It made her weakness, and my efforts, easier for us both to bear.
After Mom died, I and others said: "She was old. It was her time to go. It was a kinder and gentler death than she might have had."
But what we didn't realize, when we said this, is that my selfish heart wasn't ready yet to relinquish my mother, when her every happiness had been my responsibility and joy for every waking moment.
Through my mother's tireless efforts, she made my life and those of her brothers and children better than they might ever have been.
So I did that for her, in return. I'm so glad that I did.