Sharing

Every time I go to my parents, my mom asks me “How are you doing?”. And most times I give her a pat answer – I tell her I’m fine, I tell her I’m tired, I talk about the traffic getting to San Jose, or I talk about something fun I’ve done in the last week.

But most of the time I’m not actually fine, I’m tired for a lot of reasons, the traffic update isn’t really interesting, and the fun event wasn’t the biggest part of my week.

I’m afraid to tell her how I’m really doing, because most of the time, if I’m not doing well, it’s connected to her. Most of the time I’m worried, or I’m depressed, or I’m overwhelmed because of her stroke, her cancer, and everything connected to all that business. I don’t want to worry her, I don’t want to make her cry, I don’t want to make things harder for her, so I just don’t talk about it.

But then I read this quote:

“I’ve often heard dying people talk about this particular misery that comes from their awareness of the pain they must be causing other people. Experience tells me that it can be alleviated a little if the patient can discuss the onset of death with those around him, and if they can cry together.” Intimate Death, p. 108

Is my desire to protect my mom from pain actually bringing her more misery? Am I causing her more pain by pretending everything is hunky dory?

Maybe. Probably.

Maybe it’s time to tell my mom how I’m really doing. Maybe it’s time to let her be the mom, and me be the daughter. Maybe it’s time to let her protect me, instead of trying to have it be the other way around. Maybe it’s time for us to cry together – we’re both really good at it, so it won’t be a stretch.

I’m scared. But I love her so much, I’ll do anything to make her feel less pain. Even if it means sharing my own pain with her.