Somehow, in the darkest moments of my life, whatever higher power is out there has always chosen to make itself known. Whenever darkness threatens to consume there is always something, someone, some small gesture that reminds me of the good in the world, and the light at the end of the tunnel.
So, after living the last 30 minutes of my life, I wondered where my light was. There’s no one online right now, at least no one that I can really talk to. There’s no special invitation in my e-mail, or some happy news arriving just on time. It didn’t seem right. I don’t look upon whatever force is out there as totally benevolent, but I was still surprised at the total lack of concern.
It took me a while to process that the darkness is not encroaching. Rather, it’s on the horizon, looming with an inevitable fierceness, but not here yet. It’s not true that I don’t feel anything. Rather, I feel the expectation of what’s to come.
My mother just told me that my grandfather has Alzheimer’s. The first thing I felt was a minor annoyance, followed by guilt. Annoyance because I know the difficult road ahead, and I know that – the disease aside – he never would have made it easier for us. He hasn’t so far, has he? Of course, guilt followed soon on the heels of that thought. What kind of a monster thinks that about her own grandfather?
Yet what choice do I have at this point? The somewhat detached relationship I have with my grandfather was much more his choice than mine – than any of ours. Realistically and logically, what is he but an obligation? No, we’ll never be cruel, but how much more than dutiful can we be?
My mother, a diabetic for over a decade now, is working two jobs – both of them with an extraordinary high stress level. For the first time the diabetes has become unmanageable, and the doctor wants her to go on insulin. That idea is pushing my mother over the edge. She hates needles. But there’s no doubting that her health is declining. She hurts all the time.
Teetering so recently on the edge of my own problems, I don’t really understand how I’m going to be strong enough for this. My family – I feel as if we’re all pinwheeling, arms flailing, trying desperately to remain upright. But if we’re all so unsteady we’ll only end up knocking each other over. How can I be a rock with the consistency of sand? But really, what are the options here?
I don’t know if I can be as strong as I’ll need to be. I don’t know if i can spread myself as thin as I need to be spread. Time, the only constant, will tell what the darkness will bring, and what light will be in the eye of the storm.
Hang in there kid. Times may look tough along the road ahead, but lord knows you have been there for me in some of my darkest hours and I will be there for you in your time of need as well. The one thing to remember is that even when family is in need you often have to separate yourself and take care of yourself first. I know it sounds selfish, but honestly if you’re in a dark place you’re of less use to them than if you aren’t there at all.