My Mom, My Rock

My Mom, My Rock

Mom’s weakness has crept up on me,

gradual and abrupt, both.

It occurred to me only recently

that her noticeable decline 

began in earnest the same week

we found out my dad was diagnosed

with pancreatic cancer last year.

It named something I was feeling

I couldn’t quite make sense of.

A familiar and foul emotion.

 

Mom has always been the caregiver

dismissive of her own needs,

almost to a frustrating fault,

giving preference to others above herself

she lays down her life for her friends.

I’m not overdramatizing a single thing

you just read—it is unarguable.

Anyone who knows her has their own story

of being the recipient of her affection—

her extraordinary altruism.

 

So even as she lays in the hospital today,

the umbilical cord of her nourishing love

Leaves so many feeling lost and alone.

She checks in on scores of people,

shepherding shut-ins,

discipling young moms,

sending gift boxes to strangers,

returning calls left on her answering machine,

making her rounds in her retirement village,

baking cookies and pies for neighbors,

caring for crazy people most disregard—

mom beautifully regards, even befriends.

 

Last week she laid in her hospital bed

recounting all the people she needed to call

as she struggled for breath herself.

“I need to call John and let him know

I might need to resign from resident council.”

It’s gonna be alright, mom. They’re ok.

“I need to call back so many people

who have reached out to me.”

They know where you are. They’ll be ok.

“I don’t like being a burden to anyone,

I know you’re busy so don’t worry about

coming to visit me. I’ll be ok.”

Mom, no.  It’s our turn to care for you.

 

But my mom has been a rock for so long.

It’s hard to watch a rock weaken so.

I don’t know where this is going,

but life is precious and short

and I want to be for my mom

exactly what she been for me—

A strength and support,

unfaltering and unfailing.

 

Wrap your presence around this matriarch,

My Mom, My Rock.