Our lives are filled with them. A moment that changes everything or keeps things the same. A moment that we came so quickly we didn't even have time to wait impatiently or the one that we never thought would come. A moment when we have to do something we never thought we'd do. A moment that passes by as quickly as it came or the one that seems to linger on and keep us pigeon-holed where we don't want to be. But they are the parts that make up our lives. The moments we choose something or not, that will make up who were are and what we become.
As I sat down to decompress from the moment I just had with my Mom, a song comes to mind. It's Emerson Drive's song "Moments". It's a song about a suicidal man who is stopped by an old homeless man because he talked about his "moments". It's a beautiful song that reminds me that even in the worst possible times, we still have those moments of being great, of being second to none, and doing the things we never thought we could do.
I'm only 31 and I've experienced some pretty big "moments" in my time. I remember the moment I held my breath waiting for the first breath of my daughter who was born 11 weeks premature. And the moment I held her for the first time with a nurse pumping oxygen into my tiny baby. They were both just moments. One was the scariest and felt like the longest moment of my life. The other was the moment that I knew my baby was going to be okay.
I remember the moment my ex-husband proposed to me in front of most of my friends and a bar full of people that we knew. And I remember the moment of standing on the front porch in my old house, the night I chose to leave. I had been told by the one police officer who kept coming to the domestic dispute calls to file a restraining order or to go to the safe house for women. I remember looking at him and telling him he would never be called to that house again with me there. And he hasn't because I took that moment and left.
I remember the moment the doctor said the word "cancer" to my mother. And I remember the tears and the fears that went along with it. And the moment of my mom finishing her radiation treatment and ringing the bell at the cancer center to tell everyone there that she was finished with radiation. The brief moment of clapping and cheering that let the scariness disappear for just a moment.
And tonight's moment was helping my mother from the bed to the bedside commode because she is so weak that she can't do it with the walker anymore. But it wasn't me helping her that I will remember. It's that once I helped her back into bed, she needed to reposition herself. Though her legs are so weak that she can barely stand, her arms are strong. I watched in amazement as she used the trapeze (those little triangle things above hospital beds) to life her entire body up off the bed, with just her feet still touching it and pulling herself into a more comfortable position. I'm healthy in comparison to my Mom now and I don't believe I could have done that for myself right now. A moment of strength when she feels the weakest and I am in awe.
We do not have many moments left with Mom. Her body is shutting down. I smell the dreaded smell that people have told me about with cancer patients as they are nearing the end. We may not have too many moments left, but I will enjoy every moment of helping her to the bedside commode, bringing her food and drinks, and fixing the cable box when she messes up the remote (something she has always done).
Moments are what we have in our lives and they make up who we are. Moments have the capability of breeding forgiveness, love, anger, sadness, joy, and a plethora of emotions that shape us. I will cherish the moments...
Still loving my life,
Kat
