It Doesn’t Matter How It Happened
I CAME ACROSS A NOTE by hospice nurse Denise Napoli Long about the futile tendency of family members to get angry about what an elder loved one might have done to prevent their own illness or decline.
She wrote that dwelling on how a situation came about can be a way to distract from the harder truth: what's happening is happening, regardless.
I recognize this dynamic in myself. My mom has Parkinson's, a degenerative neurological disease. One way it shows up is a dangerous lack of balance.
Mom recently finished a two-month stint in a rehab facility after a fall that fractured one of her vertebrae. Amazingly, the fracture wasn't painful and she healed well, but her balance is more precarious than ever.
If only she'd been more active! If only she'd walk more! If only she'd take that chair yoga class at her residence!
I thought all these things, then felt like a jerk.
Denise was right; it's easier to be distracted by anger then face what's actually happening.
Mom talked about regrets quite a bit while she was stuck in bed — choices she wishes she'd made, things she'd do differently, as if different choices would have led to different outcomes. Of course that's true, but there's no way to know which outcomes, and besides, what does it matter now?
I fall into this dynamic with my kids, too. One of the hardest parts of this parenting stage is watching them dig themselves into holes then struggle to climb back out. I get frustrated and judgmental — if only they'd get up earlier! Spend less time on their phones! Do some research! Make some calls! Go to the library!
But it's all a projection. I'm not actually mad about what they should do; I'm mad about what I should have done as a parent. As if my own bad parenting choices caused their garden variety 20-something struggles.
Maybe I could have done better! But there's no way to know for sure, and besides, how does that help now?
Life is full of friction, and learning to manage that friction is what growing up is all about.
Hopefully we learn from our regrets. But dwelling there is a trap. All we can do is to turn back around and start from where we are today.
Denise wisely observed that love (for an ailing parent, for a struggling kid) can show up as an irrational wish to turn back time — but the more useful move isn't hunting for some hidden way to undo the past. It's choosing to simply be present with the person you love, exactly as they are today. Presence is what they need and what you need, too.
Mom's back in her apartment with a caretaker helping her for a few hours per day. I don't know what's ahead for her, or my kids, or me. I can't know. But today is today, and I'm trying to stay here and begin again with them, now.
Rael made a gallery wall in Mom’s drab rehab room with old calendar pages she’d saved for years. This was one of those times when clutter turned into treasure. The art changed the quality of the light in her room and radiated beauty and good memories (Mom LOVES these desert landscapes). Everyone — nurses, aides, visitors, therapists — gawked at the wall and it sparked countless conversations. On Mom’s final days in rehab, she invited the staff to pick their favorites to keep. She says the art helped her heal. Artist: Serena Supplee
