her very best gift. The gift of caregiving.
As a college senior (engaged to my father), my mother came home to be with my grandmother in the hospital while she passed. After being sick for so many years, her passing was very fast after this last surgery. Just a few months after burying her mother, she received a call that my father (in the Reserves) had contracted bacterial meningitis. My paternal grandparents drove down to Alabama with my mother to be by my father’s side- essentially to say good bye. I still can’t imagine how a young girl can process the death of her mother, immediately followed by the grave condition of her fiancé. Thankfully my father gained his strength and was honorably discharged from the Army…so he could marry my mother later that year and become our dad.
As kids there was nothing better than being sick because we got to stay home from school with mom. She really had it all figured out- beyond the best chicken broth, cozy blankets and channel 32 cartoons. Mom had us either rolling cookie dough in cinnamon sugar, making craft projects or was on the floor with us making Lego houses. We truly felt her love in all that she did for us. She has always had a militaristic style with medicine- always on schedule, anticipating the next pain or wheeze. Regardless, staying home from school was a regular thing for this allergic asthmatic- so Mom and I had loads of quality time and I wouldn’t trade a minute of it. There is no coincidence that she ended up in the delivery room for all three of my 9-10 pound babies’ deliveries…
When my father was diagnosed with Parkinson’s in 2000, my mother started her varsity caregiving chapter. All the years caring for her mother as a young girl, her father as a young mom, and all of her children, had prepared her for the role she did best, caring for our dad. Over the ten years that he endured, my mother made it possible for Dad to live with dignity and love. And though it would have been possible to have in-home care for him, my mother knew no one would do it better than she, so she literally did everything for my father. (For those with family members with Parkinson’s you know what I mean by “everything”.) My parents’ relationship really was a blessing to watch in the end as it displayed my father’s grace, as well as my mother’s selflessness. Sure, they drove each other crazy at times but that is true love.
For a woman who shampoos her hair in the lake and then hops on her Waverunner to dry her blonde locks- being stuck inside on a sunny summer day wasn’t much fun for Mom…but she was devoted to Dad. During the last summer with him in 2010, my mom proclaimed she wasn’t going to waterski that season. This came as a surprise to all of us because she took such pride in being the fun grandma (Mormor- as we call her) who waterskis. She was afraid that if she took a fall or hurt her shoulder that she wouldn’t be able to care for Dad. We all agreed that was a smart choice but sad nonetheless.
My father passed in early August which was perfectly timed with all of our family and friends close by at our lake house and the most gorgeous weather so we could celebrate my father by driving his collection of cars for the procession, each close friend or family member driving their families in a different vintage car. Wooden cars and wooden boats abounded. As we were gathered down at the dock in the early evening, downloading the events of the day- kids swimming, adults sipping wine- some friends had returned by boat to take me waterskiing. (That is always the best time to ski when the water is like glass.) I hopped on the boat and went off for a quick ski, returning to find my mom on the dock with her lifejacket on. “I’m next,”she announced.
That was a profound moment for me. How did she have the strength? Would she be okay? Our quintessential patriarch passed the torch to the woman who really held us all together the whole time. He knew she could handle it. He knew she was the right partner for him back when they met as kids at the lake. As she skied like a teenager, we all rejoiced with laughter and tears at this remarkable event, releasing the stress of the days and years leading up to this moment. Behind the boat was a woman who knew she had done right. She had endured, loved, served, and she was continuing to live. “Life is for the living”, she has said many times.
And through the struggle and loss of all of these events she continues to embrace every day, riding on the back of the boat after her ski run with the wind flowing through her blonde hair. Everyone has a story and this is hers. She has earned it. She is a warrior. She is Marcia McGregor and she is living her life in her way, Because She Can.