Voice from the past.

“Baby, I'll take care of you, I'll never let you down

No harm will ever come to you as long as I'm around

I am not afraid of what people say or do

The only thing I fear is being here...without you.”

Last weekend I called home to talk with my Dad. It had been a few days since we had spoken and I wanted to check on him to make sure he was not spending too much time outside. It had been over 100 degrees here in Chicago---I can only imagine how warm it had been in St. Louis. I always said, “You know we have cooler summers up north and sure enough, we were a whopping 5 degrees cooler…ahhhh.”

Over the past few months my Dad has had 24-hour care. At first he was not a fan of it, but I suspect he now could not live without it. Whereas I would like him to get to the point where he could once again live independently, I suspect that is wishful thinking on my part.

When he answered the phone he said, “There’s someone here who would like to speak with you.” I had no idea who it could be. When the voice came over the phone wire, part of me knew it was someone familiar and part of me had trouble placing it. Then it hit me. It was Anise, the woman my Mom trusted throughout the last days and weeks of her life while she lie in bed preparing for what would be the inevitable.

It was a little awkward at first; I really didn’t spend much time getting to know her as she tended to my Mom’s needs---but I felt the warmth and compassion that made her so important to our family almost 3 years ago. She was back, and whereas I hate to admit it, I suspect this might be a déjà vu. (I am really hoping I will not be writing about it soon in “Snap.Shot.”)

Trust, and giving yourself to another person who is there to help you, I suspect is difficult; sure we do it when we are born, and yes as parents we do it for our kids, but when the situation changes and it’s you, well…I just hope I can relinquish control. I doubt I will have a choice.

The photo above was the last time I saw my Mom. Right beside her, watching her every move, was a person who months prior would have just been another person I would have just said “hello it’s nice to meet you" to. It was really nice to hear a voice from the past---especially one who elected to come back and help once more.

Thanks for stopping by.