Unrequited

It always starts the same. That burning tingling feeling in the middle of my throat. The only remedy is tears. Once they come it's hard to stop, but at least the burning goes. I hold it in for her, but for me it has to happen.

It feels like unrequited love. Unconditional, undying love for her and nothing genuine returned. I know she loves me. She says she loves me but "her" behavior is not of love. In my endless trying to help, she pushes me away. Patience is of no use; she doesn't even give me time to try it.

She actually said she wants to die. She listed all her ailments (accurately) then said she was done. Cheryl and I told her we need her still. Then my heart broke. This is not the life she wants. Not like this. Not yet.

She's trying to rationalize why she's not teaching. She's saying it because she's just done with those kids and she's just tired of it. She doesn't seem to realize it's not even possible, just like going to the bathroom, the mall, or home isn't possible anymore. Never again...

It makes me wonder, "What defines a person?" Is it her heart? Her mind? Her soul? What is left of a person when their heart and their mind are done? The soul. We must trust the soul.

It's like she's the worst of all parts of herself, unfiltered. A loose cannon, impulsive, snippy, and even violent. The devil that's been living on her shoulder her whole life, tamed by the angel everyone else knew and loved. Cancer took the angel; the fall (ironically) took the angel from us.

I know she loves me, but this is not my mother. It's bare bones of my mother (literally). A skeleton and a lingering story of the woman she was.

Cheryl asked me the criteria for going home. I shook my head and mouthed, "None." Mother said, "Criteria for what?" and I quickly covered with, "Going to the mall. It's not jail here you know." It's really not, yet she's imprisoned by her disability and weakness. Caged in a bed with a diaper and a purposely dark room.

We had moments, but it's been a while. Lately she's "all business." Story after story, catalogue after catalogue, compliant after complaint. I can't imagine what she's going through. And she can't imagine what I'm going through.

How can I do my life without her? I got used to the idea, then this tease came. It is just a tease. A peek at the real her, then back to this. Where did my moments go? They were really all I had.

She loves me. I know she does. This love is not unrequited, just difficult. But what love isn't?