Jan 3, 2023

A year has flown by. After my mom fell in June of 2022, time seem to pass in spurts marked by a new challenge presenting itself almost every day, except that they weren’t actually new. They were long standing conflicts, resentment and bitterness buried in shallow graves only to be unearthed by the slightest unsettling of the status quo. It was my mom’s fall that started everything, brought everyone back, brought siblings talking to each other again.

We had a plan for our mother, believing that the best situation for her and for her children was to place her in a home. She of course had other plans. Every step towards our plan was thwarted. For someone who is as physically impaired as my mother, my mother does an impressive job of maintaining her agency. She is still making her own decisions, whether or not it benefits the rest of us, be damned.

You have to respect my mom. She’s a survivor. She’s got resilience. She has determination. But just because I respect her doesn’t mean I have to be an active participant in her life. She can make decisions about her life and I will make decisions about mine.

This year will be about me. Does that sound self centered? I certainly hope so.