My mother decided that she would not make me endure going to our former church as she had wanted and decided she would go to the church my husband and I attend. My mom is 92 and she gets around mostly with a walker or cane and sometimes if it is a jaunt, we roll her in. So likes to use just her cane in public, but requires an extra arm or hand to ensure her balance and safety. We are happy to supply her with that.
When Rick dropped us off at the door to go park the car, I got Mom out of the car and inside the church. As I hung up our coats, I was sure to be close by to steady her or be ready to catch her if she got off balance. She grabbed my hand and we tried to find a good grip that was both comfortable and safe.
While we were waiting for Rick to come back a person came up to us that I hadn’t seen in many years to greet me and give me a hug. I had to unlink with my mom to receive the gesture. I soon found her hand again.
The person was part of a previous life I had and even though I forgive, that forgetting part is truly difficult. Since I am advanced in years you would think that I could easily get over myself and mostly I do, but there are days. My anxiety had kicked in and I realized that I had put a death grip on my poor mother’s fingers and was gradually squeezing the life out of them. I came to my senses and released the tension. As the conversation continued I had to do the release all over again. For her part she did not wince or peel me off of her hand.
It wasn’t the time or place to explain why I had unintentionally tried to break her fingers. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as I thought it was, as she said later when I apologized that she thought the person was a friend and thought the sturdy grip was for her safety.
Turns out a 92 year old mother still needs to hold onto her child’s hand for support, even though her child is 59 and is the one that needs the support.