My problem now, Carl, is trying to get my stepson to accept that as he's
forty-seven rather than seventeen, I cannot remain responsible for him or his
happiness. It doesn't help that he's critically bipolar and a not-always
recovering addict.
My own mother died young for her family, while her mother lived to nearly
ninety-five bitter years old and her mother-in-law was a hundred three when she
finally let go of her own misery. I miss Mom terribly, but I'm apparently the
only one of the four of us kids who does. And I find my brother's complaints
about how Mom tried to teach by giving examples of what happens when you make
bad choices have been repeated by my daughter, who resents that I did much the
same. Both were convinced that they were being judged to be just as stupid as
the examples we gave them rather than realizing they were given the examples so
as to figure out that there had to be alternatives to doing similar stupid
things and getting into the same problems as a result. Both were convinced that
if they did the same things somehow they would prove clever enough not to suffer
the same consequences--which proved vain.
As a caregiver, I know how hard it is to watch people you've come to love lose
their memories to the point they can no longer remember how to swallow or even
how to breathe. I will add Cathy's mom to my prayer list.
Bonnie L. Sherrell
Teacher at Large
"Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgement. For even the very
wise cannot see all ends." LOTR
"Don't go where I can't follow."
We gave the Goblin King control of our nation!
