I don’t remember how old my mother was. But I do remember my lack of understanding. And probably patience.
I didn’t get it.
Why couldn’t she just stand up when we went to leave that restaurant she always loved.
Why did she take all that time. Leaning on the table. Holding the chair back as a crutch.
I didn’t think she needed to do that. I thought it was a weird way of gaining attention.
I guess I didn’t get it.
She said she couldn’t remember the story I told her yesterday morning. Really? She really couldn’t remember? If she tried?
Did she not hear me? Or was she just avoiding what I asked?
Why did she stop wearing the little heels she loved? Coloring the gray out of her hair?
I thought my mom would live forever. She was my person. Why was she changing. She didn’t need to. She could just push herself a little more.
I didn’t get it.
Now I feel that way about my husband.
I observe in him what I fear in me.
Settling for a walk down the driveway instead of a trip to the gym.
Following the notion that a midday nap is good for you.
Sitting on the edge of the bed to put on socks.
Knees stiff. Fingers slow.
I am frustrated with him because I see it all in me.
I don’t pop up after a long, boozy dinner. Walking the streets of New York puts my knees in an altered state. I can no longer shimmy to the floor dancing to “Louie Louie”.
The name of the star of a show I’m binge watching, escapes me.
I put everything on a calendar. I set the timer. I pack the day before I leave on a trip.
I am aging too and I don’t want it to be so.
I don’t want you to notice.
I hope you don’t notice.
I cover it with a wash of busyness. A whoosh of energy. A whoop of laughter.
But it is coming. As it did for my mom. And now for my husband. And, admittedly, for me.
But that truth doesn’t change anything.
I am still angry at you.
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So true, why can’t you be the way you were? Why can’t I? This brought tears to my eyes as I remember the anger. Who is that in the mirror? I sound the same, you sound the same. Who is that?
The path we all take to where??
Beautifully said Mary.
painfully beautiful…love you…
Why:the unanswerable question…”Delete the need to understand” xo
Raw, hurtful, honest & beautiful!
Thank you, Miss Mary! XoPenny
Thanks for writing (and beautifully well!) what we are all feeling…xoxox
ahh so true….m
Beautifully written. I’m going through the same thing with my family. I am reading Aging for Beginners by Ezra Bayda and then will read a book I hear is fabulous called Age-ing to Sage-ing by Rabbi Zalman who studied with leaders of all different faiths to write the book. Love to you and Happy Holidays! Frannie
love love love your incandescent view into what might seem ordinary but is anything but…
as I told my son, you will only feel the deepest empathy for me after I am too long in the grave to hear your apology…but at least he knows, that I know, some day he will see what you have seen here, my deep friend.
You put it to words. My thoughts. So beautifully expressed. Sending love.
and tell Gordon I just got my third face lift…I can hear him now, “Oh Jesus!”
So powerful, So true…….damn.
We are all in denial about this process and I don’t think you aged a bit in the 22 years I have known you, me neither!
What a beautiful way with words and life you have Mary Mott. I think the sense of sadness I am often staving off with a run, or a dance class or even a chardonnay stems from what you describe so humanly in this writing. Love to you.
I love your words Mary Mott. I love your honesty. Thanks for your presence in my life!
I love your words. I love your honesty. Love you!
Thank you Mary for your honest open and willingness to tell the truth..
Beautifully expressing something I have witnessed, experienced and thought.