 Remember when you were a little kid and you would bump your head into the coffee table or skin your knee or something? It would hurt, but you would pretty much be ok if your mom didn't seem too worried. If you hurt yourself and your mom looked at all panicked, well, that was a different story. You probably immediately started crying. When the person who usually tells you that everything is going to be ok doesn't look like everything's ok it can really do a number on you. I mean, not to compare skinned knees with Jesus' crucifixion or anything, but I can't imagine how panicked Jesus' followers must have been when He's getting arrested and tortured and crucified. The One who set others free now a prisoner. That must have been seriously terrifying for them.
Dealing with my dad's dementia was horrible. I hated to see him suffer. I hated what the disease did to him. I hated all of it. What made it worse though, was to see my mom, his wife, suffer along with him. To see someone empathize so vividly and prolifically was both inspiring and heartbreaking. I thought when my dad died, the anxiety and stress I carried about the situation would die with him. I was wrong. I mean, not totally. I don't worry in the same way like I used to. Every time my phone rings I'm not thinking, "I wonder what has happened with dad this time?" Has he fallen, has he hurt himself? No, those calls don't come anymore. Now I worry in a different way. How does my mom, married to a man for all of her adult life, deal with such a loss? If I'm honest, though, my motivations are more selfish. I don't really worry if she'll be ok. I worry if I'll be ok. Like the kid with the skinned knee and a worried mom. If mom cries, what in the world am I supposed to do? I'm not really sure at this point. I'll let you know if come up with something. -Chad |
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