Best Mom Ever!

Hello, Hello. "Are you there, Mom? It's me, Mahara." Sound familiar? Judy Blume had the original, and better, iteration, I know. Still, those were my words tonight as I tried in vain to have a phone conversation with my aged mother. She couldn't hear me, wasn't sure which daughter was calling and wanted me to talk to her nurse instead. "Is it on speaker? Who's calling? Hello? Hello? I can't hear you. Can you put it on speaker and turn it up?" As frustration got the better of me and I explained to her nurse that I would try her again another time, I wondered where the time had gone. How was it that I was in my mid-fifties and unable to communicate with my 95-year-old mom?
I pride myself on my ability to express myself and make strong connections with people. Furthermore, I have always had a very close and loving relationship with my mother. However, at that moment, my throat was closing around my words, and my thoughts were spiralling downwards. I couldn't have hung up faster if I tried. I didn't want to be that daughter one second longer. The daughter that her mom didn't hear or perhaps recognize. The daughter who thought, "Just put in your hearing aid! I know you have a perfect one because my brother just checked it for you." Instead, I gave a stranger an update to pass along; "Please tell her we are all fine. It's cold here. We miss her and hope to see her soon." I live in a different province than the rest of my family, and we are still amid a pandemic. The chances of me seeing my mom anytime soon are slim to none.
What will I do if she passes before I can hold her and thank her for being the best mom ever? I am short of breath all of a sudden. I didn't have these thoughts when preparing for my father to pass away years ago as he struggled with cancer. For some reason, I handled his illness and inevitable death much better than I am handling my mother's slow demise. What exactly was I feeling at that moment? Good question. Was I feeling annoyed because while I finally got through to her (she usually doesn't hear the phone ring), I still could not connect with her? Perhaps it was regret that my efforts to be a good daughter were for naught? Wow, that sounds self-serving! Or, was I feeling angry that my mom wasn't behaving the way I wanted her to be acting? I think I just answered my question.
Despite my efforts to be honest, thoughtful and enlightened, at that moment, I was anything but. The sad truth was that I was inexplicably angry at my mom because she wasn't the mom I needed or wanted. I was resentful that time was slipping away from me and frustrated that the pandemic kept us apart. I realized then that I was, in fact, angry at myself. My beautiful mother had done nothing wrong as she was doing her very best in a lousy situation. My mom suffers from short-term memory loss and dementia. She also can't hear much despite wearing a hearing aid and was recently moved from a one-bedroom apartment in a seniors facility to one room in a nursing home. She is incredibly lonely and afraid. Such is her reality.

It has been 24 hours since I began this blog. I just hung up from a slightly better phone call with my mom. I say "better" because we communicated with each other. She still couldn't hear me at all, but she was happy to know I was on the phone. Her nurse once again played intermediary. Mom haltingly and loudly asked me a question; I answered, and Amy wrote out my answer. Yes, it was the same few questions asked repeatedly. Still, she now knows, without a shadow of a doubt for the next 2 minutes, that her youngest child is happy, lives in Alberta, and doesn't know when she will next be in BC. I have chosen to be content with that. I have decided to forgive myself for yesterday's anger. Today is a better day for this enlightened daughter.