GOLDEN YEARS..

I've have the honor, and I mean that, of being with my mother as she's faced some tough medical challenges this past year. It's my chance to give back-- a full circle time in my life. It's been an up-hill battle full of setbacks but Virginia Walsh is tough. There’ve been flickers of her old self but it's been rough and this experience has changed all of her "adult" children's lives.

When you have a living parent, no matter what your age, you're still a child. That explains much of the childish behavior surrounding her care and the squabbles over her treatment. I don’t know why I thought we'd agree...the Walsh's never agreed on anything. Inside our adult bodies are the kids we were growing up in the house we all once called home. We've had battles, there’s been name calling, crying, and at times we've almost came to blows. None of it made it better...if anything it hurt each of us in ways I hope will not be irreparable.

My mom says being 86 is like being on death row. "You know you're on borrowed time but you don't know when your number will be called up." Initially, I found that rather pessimistic but I'm starting to reconsider her point of view. Here’s the ugly truth. It's not fun to surrender your freedom or to give up your independence and control to your kids. It sucks to reverse rolls with your children. She's fighting it all the way and that makes it soooo much harder to cope. Today we fought about a shower. She didn't want one....I thought she should have one. She got testy, I got hurt. She was right--I was wrong. She should at least have a say in when she takes a shower. After the fight, she went for a walk, with the help of an aide, up and down the street trying to regain her strength and her independence. As I watched I realized it really didn't matter if she took that shower, what mattered was for that brief walk she was back in control.

My sister likes to get mom all dressed up—she puts on makeup and does her hair. I can barely get her ready for the day… makeup and hairdo’s are the last thing on my mind. But, she likes it….it makes her feel alive. When my sister is fussing over mom’s appearance, she’s not on death row.

My mother and I sleep in the same bed. I don't run there for comfort like I did when I was a child....I'm there to make sure she's safe. I listen to her breathing, I watch her drift into sleep, I hear her wake in the middle of the night but stay quiet so she won't interrupt my sleep. Even now, my mother continues to teach me things about compassion and love.