I've been thinking lately about attitudes. There are those of us who are "glass full" kinds of folks and those of us who are the half empty variety. Depending on which category you fall in, life can be easier or more burdensome. I think how we perceive life, how we manage life and how we adjust to life is measured by our most basic attitude, which, for the most part, we arrive with from birth.
This doesn't mean life can't assert itself and change our attitude, or the essence of who are, at least temporarily, but the trueness of our being always comes shining through in the end. You can be a half empty type and still have a lot of happiness in your life. However, I do believe those who are lucky enough to be born with a sunny disposition, those who have hope, no matter what is thrown their way, those people are happier in the end.
My mother-in-law is one of those hopeful, sunny people who, despite battling Alzheimer's, has a sweet, sweet nature that shines through her fog of delusion. This was most recently brought to mind after a phone conversation.
Marge calls fairly often. She has not lost her memory of family, though she does occasionally need to be reminded of relationships. Marge's phone calls are her link to those she loves most. They break up her day and provide her joy and for that I am thankful, because, as awful as it sounds, sometimes we sigh when the phone rings and our Caller ID lets us know who is on the other end. The reason for this exhalation of air is that these conversations are invariably the same- over and over and over. But they always end with "Love You." To which I reply in kind- and I do.
Despite the repetitiveness, lately, I find myself grateful. I'm grateful she can pick up the phone and call and grateful that she remembers me. And... I'm struck by the sweetness of these calls. Throughout the entire conversation what comes through is a women who is happy in her life situation, who LOVES her family and still feels such a connectedness to all of us. My last phone conversation felt like an epiphany as she relayed again how much she loves her sons, her grandchildren and her daughters-in-law. I chuckled as she shared again how much she loves her cat and how much she enjoys the pleasures of retirement (common, common themes).
As we ended the call, I thought, "Seriously?" Where does this woman's life attitude come from? She's in her senior years, mostly housebound, confused much of the time and happiness just radiates from her.
It got me thinking- I don't ever remember seeing my mother-in-law angry. Now how can that be? Everyone has seen me angry at one time or another. I don't hide that emotion easily. I realized, I've seen Marge hurt. I've seen her worried. I've seen her not feeling physically well. I've seen her flustered - but never angry.
I wish I had that gene. Too much of my life has been wasted being pissed off. Like I said, I believe you are born with the essence of your personality. It's hard-wired to your brain. Even as a child, I was just flat prickly. To be perfectly frank, I don't think anyone would want to deal with me in a delusional state in my senior years. I imagine the worst would shine through.
Thinking back to when I first met Marge. I remember my nervousness. After all I was meeting my new boyfriend's parents. Marge would have been about the age I am now. I remember rocking so fast in a rocking chair that I banged it against a wall, causing heat to rise to my face with embarrassment. I remember the Sunday brunch she prepared with fresh fruit submerged in champagne. Most of all, I remember how welcoming she was.
In the ensuing years, Marge has never once criticized me. She has never once intruded on how we live our lives. Despite many differences in opinion, she has never once argued with me. She has never expressed anger towards me. She has never shown jealousy or possessiveness. For 30+ years she has continued to hold her arms open wide with love and support.
Over those many years, I watched Marge evolve from an empty-nester searching for the next thing, to a professional business woman filled with a need to explore her spirituality and learn more about her body and what she was putting in it. Like many women in their middle years, Marge's most authentic self emerged.
It was with dismay, when, about 5 years ago, we began to notice the forgetfulness and inability to perform simple functions. The eventual diagnosis of Alzheimer's was really a foregone conclusion by the time it was official. Watching her progress through this final affront has been painful. It has also been very frustrating, particularly for my father-in-law, her primary caretaker.
If Marge's life attitude were different, if she had a dark core, or was easily angered, easily dissatisfied or was a hurtful person, I am convinced those traits would be rearing their ugly head's. Traversing Alzheimer's with someone other than Marge would be an entirely different story.
How lucky are we, that despite the many frustrations and the sadness over this betrayal, we have been granted a women who remains happy. A women who expresses her love and her satisfaction in life in every conversation.
That most recent phone call got me thinking, "I wish I were more like my mother-in-law." Life would be so much more fun.
Love You, Dear Marge.
VSL
