I've spent some years working with geriatrics, and an equal or higher number of years working with children who have moderate to severe disabilities. I know what to do with a man or woman who has the smell of death clinging to their greyish skin. I know how to comfort them, sing to them, rub their arm or back. I know not to correct them when they speak of the baby they brought home yesterday, and the barn chores that have yet to be done.
I can cradle a child born in a body with muscles that refuse to cooperate to the requests of her mind. I can stroke her hair, laugh with her, feed her gently. I can scoop her up in my arms and place her in a wheelchair effortlessly, then fasten all the straps and velcros without giving it any conscious thought.
I'm less sure, and seemingly less competent with a youngish brother whose hair has taken on a somewhat geriatric look (flat in the back, wild on the top), whose skin colour can sometimes rival the grey streaking through his hair, who breathes heavily with the effort of living with his pain.
It's out of context.
9 comments:
I can't help but personalize your pain, even though I'm not experiencing it, after talking to my same-age brother yesterday. He is my one solace/true friend in my family-of-origin. We are each others' therapist, wading through the wreckage of our childhood. I don't know what I'd do if he were ill. I invited him to come on holiday with us this summer. I hope he takes us up on the offer.
Sorry to dump. Take care of him. And you.
Andrea- never be sorry. If people don't have one another to see the love and hope of God in, then the world is indeed hopeless.
Wading through with siblings can be some of the best and most affordable therapy around. We too, (family) are solace to one another- laughing, crying, driving, caring, wondering together. Your comment is much appreciated.
Thanks for painting a picture for me. In my mind I have still been picturing the smiling, charming, curly haired brother. It's been hard to believe how sick he really is. My mind insists that this is just some unpleasant little glitch that should clear up soon, and things will all be wonderful again. I think I'm finally getting the picture. I don't like the picture. I want my brother back. I want him living with and loving his beautiful family. I want to enjoy his smile and his wit. I want him back.
He couldn't have a better sister to take care of him though.
It's senseless and unfair, Joyce. I'm sorry I can't be any use. You've got enough on your plate without bothering with me weeping for you xx
This is one of those times where my grasp of English just goes out of my ears, and where I simply respons by reaching out my arms for a hug.
Consider yourself hugged across the miles.
*hugs Joyce*
i'm so sorry that you're going through this, joyce. there is nothing harder in life then watching someone you love slowly leave this world. hugs.
I think that you know exactly what to do and you are probably already doing it.
Give yourself more credit. You have a real gift.
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