So I finally brought mama from India! She’s almost 78, mostly well but with a few age-related deficits that affect her everyday tasks such as lifting items over 5 pounds and stretching to reach items above her. Sometimes she can’t open lids of storage containers or take her shirt off without help. Her vision has been affected by macular generation, and while she’s legally blind in one eye, she has limited vision in the other. She has trained herself to adapt to these changes in her body and goes about her day like a champion. As her daughter, my heart gets heavy seeing the progression of a physically fit mama who was a thriving physician, wife and mom into a lady who is now fully dependent for her care.
Her home was always welcoming and meticulously organized. She was an independent, self-reliant woman who contributed to her community in many ways. She was loved in her circle of friends and family. She still is. And I am fortunate to have her come stay with us.
As the days go by, I think of myself when I was a kid and how I needed mom for everything. The most significant role our parents had was giving us the nurturing support and unconditional love. I remember slipping into bed with my parents if I had a nightmare or just needed some reassurance. I remember the days when I was going through the daunting process of applying for admission to US universities from India and how my mother would sit up with me for hours, just listening to my whining or planning. No matter how tired she was after a hard day’s work, she made sure she was present. No matter how full her place was, there was always room for me. Or rather, she always made room for me. Even now, she makes sure she doesn’t trouble me as much as possible and tries to manage her day improvising her way into opening lids and navigating our complex TV set up.
It’s so easy for us to forget where we came from. We’re all busy in our dreadfully complicated almost-22nd century lives. We’re inundated with our children’s activities, work, social media, peer pressures, and many other tasks we could potentially eliminate, and carry our tempers on the edge of our foreheads, ready to explode at the slightest variation of set expectations and routines.
I’ve been reflecting on all of the above, a lot.
The best way to understand our journey is to value where we came from and to visualize where we’re heading. Somewhere in the middle of all of that lies the magic which will ignite the passion we need to serve our parents, to give back to them even a tiny bit of what they have given to us, to love on them with purity, to honor their whims and fancies for one day we will be in their spot, to respect them because that is what they deserve.
Thank you mama for being with me. Looking forward to building some more amazing memories.