Live day to day

One thing I've learned from repetition: Live each day and let tomorrow take care of itself because yesterday is done and tomorrow never comes. It's always today. And there are a lot of reasons to be aware of our surroundings: the people who populate our lives, the things that truly are important to us rather than the things we've been THINKING are important to us and those things that bring peace, joy and tranquility to us.

Mom said, "I don't know why I'm still here." I know she didn't mean to make any of us feel guilty. And I was the only one who was there, so my brothers aren't aware of any guilt trips. I don't get up to Mom and Dad's house as often as I should/could/would. Is it because my youngest brother said, "You can't put your life on hold for Mom and Dad"? Well, maybe I can't but someone has to be there for them. Who else is going to do what needs done?

"We still need you, Mom," I said. But she was probably thinking, "Then why aren't any of you around so I can feel needed?"

"God isn't done with you here, yet," I added. "When He's ready..."

When I hugged her before I left her house, she said, "I love you, honey. I wouldn't trade you for anything."

"I know," I said. "You tell me that all the time. It's so good to be loved."

And I vow I'll get up to see them more, but life intervenes and I'm feeling like I'm scattered all over the place. At my age I'm feeling like I need to be focused on my writing because it's now or never. In 20 years I could be the next version of the woman in front of me...the woman I have loved, admired and respected every day of my life.

The next day (yesterday) I had to take her to a doctor appointment. She held onto the corner of the house where the steps lead from the porch to the sidewalk. She's changed from the confident woman she used to be. As much as I've been looking to simplify my life, the simplicity that is pooling around her was not what I had in mind. She made her way to the car, and I was stricken by the thought that she is becoming frail. The time was when she would scurry to my car and we'd take off for shopping excursions or work on quilts together or take a trip together.

When we walked up the ramp to the doctor's appointment she said, "I'm getting so frail." So, she realizes that. I felt a tug at my heart. Inside the exam room while we waited for Dr. Getzinger she said, "I want another dog but they won't let me have one."

We've talked about that time and time again. "I don't think you can take care of a dog."

"I took care of Josh. He was no trouble."

"You got Josh before the Alzheimer's, Mom. There's a lot of work to taking care of and training a puppy. I just don't think it's a good idea. You have trouble taking care of yourself."

"I can take care of a dog."

Ten minutes ago she was talking about how frail she's getting.

Dad's having trouble with his COPD. He told her the way things are going, she won't have to worry about him much longer. She still knows that Dad is the only reason she is still living at home, the home she's lived in for 50 years. She knows if he dies first, she will have to come and live with me. Dad is working so hard to keep himself going so they can both live out their lives independently.

I remember a couple of years ago when I went to Florida with Maureen. There was a story in the newspaper there of a firecall. Of the firefighters who needed to speak with a counselor when they watched the elderly couple inside that vehicle burn up because the driver had locked the car, set it on fire and refused to unlock the doors.

It sounded to me like the man had driven his wife to the beach so they could watch the tide. Maybe it was their favorite place, someplace that they had shared many times. Maybe the lost look in her eyes was the Alzheimer's at full-blown pitch. Maybe he worried what would happen to her if he died first and he just couldn't handle that thought.

We all need to live just for today. Because today is all that we really have. And every today after this one.