I hesitated to mention this, as it is a difficult and sensitive topic. But, we all talk about it, and we all worry about it, so I decided it might be good to get it out there into the cyberair so we could share it. I am talking about mothers. That whole generation of women who birthed us, raised us, and, to varying degrees, supported us, and who are now facing their own mortality.
First, let me say that I realize that many of us have lost mothers already, and I am sorry for that loss, as I realize how hard it is to lose a mother when still young. But, this post is not going to attempt to address that kind of loss. Rather, I am talking about what it is like to live on with an aging mother, and to grow old with her.
Mothers and daughters often have a complicated bond between them. Some mother-daughter pairs are fortunate to have a consistently loving relationship, but others have relationships that are roller coasters of good and bad times. There are periods of great closeness, and periods of great alienation. The reasons for this are many, genes, socio-economic standing, psychological difficulties, trauma, etc, but too complicated to address here now. Let’s just say that some relationships between mothers and daughters are fraught with challenges. So, when old age enters the picture, the relationship can become even more challenging.
Being ourselves women of a certain age, we were just beginning to breathe a sigh of relief as our children seemed to be settling down into their own lives. We could look forward to some years of relative freedom, and maybe the joys of grandparenting. Or we could look forward to travel, and some time to ourselves and our friends. But, too often, we have been surprised by a new development. Suddenly, Mom, our Mom, is becoming difficult. Suddenly, we are faced with a mother who is old, and not aging gracefully. Gone are the days of simple annual visits for the holidays, or Sunday dinners with the parents. Many of our mothers have outlived their husbands and have been living alone for a decade or so by now. And they have not done well with that change. As they approach their last years, they seem, at times, to be headed backwards, not forward, in life.
I don’t pretend to know what it must be like to be facing imminent mortality, to know that your days on the planet are severely numbered, to realize that most of your friends and relatives have pre-deceased you, and that there is only one way out. It must be a terrifying feeling, especially when you have to face it alone. Especially when you have seen others whom you loved leave this life in varying degrees of pain or anguish. It can’t be easy. And I don’t think our society gives us a good template to use in these circumstances. Religion used to fill the void, but, even when people are relatively devout in their religions these days, I don’t think they have the blind unreasoning faith that earlier generations did. And they have seen too much of what medical science can do to “treat” people, so that they fear what kind of end they will have to endure.
So, these women, our mothers, have every right to be ornery. But knowing all this doesn’t help us to deal with their orneriness. It is still tremendously frustrating to try to help them, to make suggestions, and to have our suggestions ignored or ridiculed. We have spent our lives mothering our children, our nieces, nephews, and assorted others, and we expect that our ideas will be respected. We are used to finding solutions to life’s problems, and helping those around us to realize those solutions. We are so used to fixing our loved ones’ problems, it is second nature to us.
But, as we are realizing, mothers often rebuff our plans to help them. They have an uncomfortable and annoying habit of wanting to do things their own way. They have their opinions about how they should live their lives, and they don’t take kindly to being told otherwise.
