I Wonder...

if I could half capture this mood. I reflect and I ponder. I wonder...I really do. Am I in yet another form of denial? I keep waiting to feel more and more and more deeply about what is happening to my Mother. I wonder...have I already felt it all? I've already grieved the loss of her. I mean, I never really had her...not unless she needed me to take care of her or do some degree of her dirty work. I wonder...I know that I'm not a bad daughter. I was never a bad daughter. It is true that I doubted this truth for many years. I know better now.


So, when I look into her nearly site-less eyes, I see the remnants of what she is was. And she is much softer, much kinder, so unlike herself. Where is that hard, selfish expression filled with all manner of jealousy? Where is the sneaking, conniving self serving personality I am so accustomed to building walls against? Dad keeps waiting for that woman to pop back up. It's what he's used to. It's what we're all used to. It's what he misses. But, the thing is, though that is a definite defining part of her, there is more. There is always so much more.....and I am accustomed to painting bright, shiney faces on the dark, ugly truths.