Here's to What Matters

“What do you mean you aren’t going?” Minnie’s words cut to the quick.

“It’s just that I have to look after some things here. You know I had intended to be there." Mae was answering, but her voice sounded like someone else’s even to herself.

“This isn’t you, Mae. I’ve never seen you taking a step back from anything. Are you sure you’re OK?” 

Before she could answer a feeble voice called her from the back room. “Mae? Could you get me a fresh glass of water? My throat is so dry.” Mae cringed at the intrusion, but tied up her conversation with her closest coworker.

“Look, I’m sorry to back out on you. Hopefully, we can sort it all out next week. Need to run for now. See you Monday.” And before a reply in protest could hinder her she hung up and headed for the back.

“Sure, Mom. Coming.” Mae willed herself to settle in and focus on what was in front of her, not what she was leaving off to take more time with her mother’s care. She even put on a smile as she headed for the bedroom and retrieved her favorite water cup.

She rinsed the cup in the kitchen and refilled it with ice and filtered water, carefully arranging the straw the way Mom wanted it.

Minnie’s words didn’t leave her despite her best efforts. She was leaving things off at work, and she knew it was the last thing she ever expected to be doing at this point in her life.

Her mother’s illness had started suddenly and the hours she was used to spending after her normal work day to ensure all was running as it should were being sacrificed. It had been Mae’s life: enjoying the challenge, finding the solutions, keeping it all together. She even relished the sacrifice—it made her feel alive and needed, smart and confident.

She tried not to think of her mother’s care as a burden, but there were times she wanted to think of what else they could do, what other arrangements could be made to provide the care of her mother, and not give up what was important to her. That would be the nursing home, Mae. She made herself face the words and the picture they brought. 

She didn’t want to do that as long as she could meet the needs as they were, but with the tension between the two lives, the two Mae’s, had grown tighter lately. The conference she had committed to was this weekend, and she had thought Mom would be better by now so that leaving her alone at night wouldn’t be an issue. But this week, she had faced the truth. Mom wasn’t ready for that, and round-the-clock sitters weren’t within their budget. Canceling was the right thing to do, but still, she felt her world unraveling. Who was she, if not “Mae the Successful”?

“Here you go, Mom.” She handed in the water and turned to head toward the home office she had set up a few weeks back in her mother’s spare bedroom. 

“Hold up!” Her mother’s words were sharp, piercing. “Can’t you talk to me for a few minutes? It’s pretty lonesome back here in this bed.”

The report she was behind on waited for her on the desk and it was the last thing standing between her and falling into bed. It had been a long week, and she felt she was already giving all she could. Her mother's impatience sounded like ingratitude and it grated on her nerves. Nevertheless, she sat on the edge of the bed and tried to hide her agitation. 

“How are you feeling, Mom,” she asked, hoping for the short answer this time. It was not to be, as her mother went from one ailment to the next, detailing which one was worse today. Mae willed herself to give some attention to the list, but her mind was mostly on the work left to do. Her mother didn’t miss that fact, though, and her tone changed as she read Mae’s mood.

“I’ve kept you long enough,” she said, but the disappointment that their conversation had been a forced one, not the comfortable way she longed to be able to talk to her daughter was evident. Now Mae felt like some lowlife. She was caught between two worlds, and she was failing in both. 

Did it have to be this way? Where were her loyalties best invested? She knew in that instant that if she were to hand in her resignation tomorrow she would be missed, but in a few weeks life would go on as though she had never been there. 

But this. . . She looked over the feeble hands that once held hers as she crossed the busy highway to the beach on vacation, or handed her the cup of cold water she was dying for after a hot day’s play outside. This time it wasn’t guilt or obligation that moved her to take the next action. These moments would never come again. This was the one person to whom everything Mae did would truly matter, truly make a difference, and truly be appreciated. She was not sure how she could balance this care and the job, but one thing she made a choice to do: to live with her mother, not just stay in her house and care for her.

“No, Mom. It’s OK. Let me tell you about my day. And when I’m done you had better take your meds and get some sleep. Tomorrow we are taking a drive over to the fields where I’ve been watching the cotton burst out snow-white. I might even pick some for you. And on the way back, we’ll head to Sonic for ice cream. What do you think about that?”

“Do you think we could grab a catfish plate while we’re out?”

“Catfish it is, Mom.”

When the lights went out that night, the burden of Mom’s care was both shouldered and lifted. Whatever is carried in love is never heavy.

Tomorrow would be a new day.