Metamorphosis

I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living my baby you'll be.

~Robert Munsch

Of cocoons, wings, Mothers and Daughters.            

I have watched both of my daughters go through metamorphosis.  It isn't just for butterflies.  I have watched them squirm around in their cocoons.  Cocoons constructed of their homes, friends, family, parents and schools.  Boxes in their own right, these cocoons stretch to their limit and burst open.  Despite being cracked and weathered, a beautiful butterfly emerges from the cocoon.  Her wings are wet so she flutters them gently in the sunlight until they gain the strength they need to take her great distances to big adventures.

Metamorphosis is a beautiful wonder.  But it can also be just like a roller coaster ride.  It can take a parent up sheer cliffs of cold dark fear and then propel them down hills at exhilarating euphoric speeds.  All the while your heart sets in your throat beating like a steel drum.  No parent knows if they will survive this ride.

Leaving the nest.  Learning to let go.  These phrases characterize the last six years of my life.  My daughters are growing up.  They are making decisions on their own; they are experiencing their lives.  But growth hurts.  Especially when a parent has lived, to a certain extent, vicariously through their children.  The laundry basket is empty, the clothing missing from the bathroom floor, and dinners go uncooked.  Gone are the cross country meets, the softball games, the parent teacher conferences and the unmade beds.  Do they still need us?  Or will the calls home be reserved for those life crises that will arise; broken hearts, stalled cars and sick bodies?

The pain a parent feels when their child leaves home is real.  They fear for their child's future and they fear the unknown.  Combine these fears with the absence of noise in the house and quiet evenings and you get a recipe for instant loneliness.  At least for me, I know that one of the symptoms for my empty nest syndrome is dealing with the extra time I have.  It is time for me to decide what I want to be when I grow up.

Last summer we went to New York City.  I had never been to the top of the Empire State Building.  I don't like elevators so I wondered how I would react going so many stories up into space.  I did fine.  I loved being up there!  Standing on top of the world, looking out towards Central Park and the skyline into New York state, I was reminded that there is a big ole world out there.  Opportunity and possibilities are endless.  My Mom used to tell me it was "all between my ears".  She was right.

Is the sky really the limit?  Will I find my niche now that the butterflies have flown the cocoon?  I guess I'll be finding out.

Comments

[Kate]

I am almost 49 years old. I had no children of my own....until now.
I feel I have now taken on the roll as "parent" or "Mom", to my Mom who is almost 78 years old.
I lost my Dad in April 2005. We were very close. Probably more so with my Dad then with my Mom.
Of course they were from the old school where the husband took care of his family, was the sole bread winner and my Mother relied on him for almost everything.
In the couple of years before he died, he was suffering from congestive heart disease and he became weaker and weaker every month.
My mom rarely left the home afraid something would happen to my Dad and she would not be there.
They were married 56 years.
Now that he is gone, my Mom has lost 1/2 of her her heart and soul and being.
I know how she feels. At least I think I do.
I have been with my husband for 19 years. I cannot imagine my life without him.
So, as Mom struggles with the loss of her soulmate, she also now struggles with Alzheimers and Diabetes.
She had lived in the same house for 52 years. She could not take care of herself anymore last year, so we put her in an Assisted Living facility in Nov 2006.
My sisters and I fixed up her apartment really nice with all the things we could get to fit in there from her home. Going from 1800 sq. ft. to 600 sq. ft, was quite the challenge.
Her first two months there were fantastic. She was involving herself in activities everyday, going on outings, making new friends and loving her new place.
She had her smile back, which was all that mattered to me.
Here we are now almost 4 months there, and things are back to the old ways. She is bored, she is lonely, she is always sad. She shuffles her feet when she walks, she now walks with a cane or a walker and she told me that I made a mistake in bringing her there.
My therapist told me that our roles have reversed. She is the child and I am now the parent.
I am sure I don't like this roll at all.

I don't want to be the parent. I just want to be my mother's daughter. I don't want to see her grow old because she wants to just be with Dad and has given up on life. I did not ever imagine it would be this way.

I hate to admit it but I had always hoped my Mom would go first because I knew my Dad would handle the separation better than Mom has. But we all know God has a plan for each of us and there is nothing I can do to change that.

I want my Mom back. I want to be able to have a conversation with her and she be able to comprehend what I am saying.
I want to be able to go shopping with her.
I want to see her smile again.
I want her last years on earth to be happy and filled with joy.
I don't want to worry about her every waking minute.

I have always been a bit of a control freak. I have always been the caretaker in my family.
I have always thought if I worked hard enough on something, I could change it for the better.
Not with my Mom. Unfortunately.