One year ago I made my first post. I had been contemplating starting a blog and then I did. In that year since, I have posted 32 blogs, made a bunch of new friends and lived several lives all in just a short 52 weeks. I have dragged Martha over the countryside, across seas and from house to house with me as if I was entitled to do so. I often hear the phrase “Martha wouldn’t want you to do this, she would want you to live your life.” An odd phrase I think, I usually just smile and nod politely. Grin, grit my teeth. I don’t really know what that means but it makes me think, am I not living?
So in honor of that sentence, in honor of Martha and myself here I am to say. I am living my life, and I am so grateful for that. Currently I am sitting on the lakefront of Lake Wakatipu in Kingston. I am writing like a crazy person about something that is in my blood, I am exploring who I am and what I want to do? A crazy notion when I think back to two years ago and thought I knew! Over the past two years I have been to hell and back. On occasion I was given no choice I was taken there and left to figure my way back and other occasions with great passion I took myself there as well, I basked in it’s heat and glory. I have come close to death with much sadness and come closer with lust in my eyes. I have lived, loved, cried, laughed and for the first time in nearly two years; I have found peace. Martha, an ever-moving pillar in my life has shown me that I am valued and that we together are living.
Whilst her Alzheimer’s saddens me I am grateful for it as well. A strange thing to say and a stranger thing to read but as I absorb the world, this earth and the magnitude of powerful mountains that surround me I see Martha and her disease for what it is. The opportunity for me to grow, to heal, to love and to live. So for that I am grateful… I am grateful for when she tells me she loves me very much, for her soft touch, for her delusions in which she needs me, for the look on her face when I walk into a room and she is no longer panicked. For her love of me and her hate. For giving me true patience to hold her and tell her I love her when her brain has tricked her into thinking I am not of her blood. For compassion and kindness that I never knew brewed so deeply inside me and for giving me the chance to give myself to something so completely that I do not walk away from it at 5pm because my day was done. I am honored to be a daughter, a carer and a Mother to my Mother. I have been given so many wonderful opportunities in the past two years that I would of never experienced before in my life if it hadn’t of been for a great tragedy. But now as I watch the waves batter at the shore I know that I. Am. The lucky one.