The Voice Says: “Mama! Mama!”
Dear Nicholas, A voice from some hidden place inside me keeps calling, “mama mama!”, the way severely wounded soldiers sometimes do. The voice keeps speaking up in spite of the fact that I’m feeling fine.
The words come out of me aloud and only when I’m alone.
The other cry for help I’m sometimes surprised to hear myself murmur is “Where’s my daddy?” And once: “Daddy, help my boy!”
Like A Tourette’s-y Blurting
I know that Husband Bob’s ill health is causing this deep unsettlement. But, I say it again: “I feel just fine.” He’s not in crisis. We happily hang out together at home. I’m not consciously fearful.
When he left rehab in December, we were told he needed 24/7 care. Now he manages well enough for himself that if it weren’t for continuing fall risk, I’d be ready to call off the full-time care.
Am I Out of Touch With My Feelings?
So we’re doing well, yet a buried piece of me seems to feel that we’re too close to the edge of life.Too close to death. I hear the voice, but don’t feel upset. Does this mean I’m not “in touch with my feelings”? If so, I’ll remain out of touch. I do feel notified at least.
I expect that Bob and I will go on as we are for many years. In any event, neither of my highly capable parents could solve the problem of Bob’s health, even if they were alive and present.
What Could They Do, Anyway?
So I guess it’s an old, old habit resurfacing at a time when some pretty serious stuff is going on. An old expectation of help at hand.
Bob does have excellent doctors. Powerful help is at hand.
Still, there’s that old primitive voice. Call it a prayer, which is solace in its self.
Love,
Peggy
Categories: Uncategorized
Tags: 24/7 care, caregiver, close to death, consciously fearful, continuing fall risk, cry for help, full-time care, help at hand, in touch with my feelings, mama mama, old habit resurfacing, prayer, primitive voice, too close to the edge of life, wounded soldiers
Comments
I know that feeling. I just wanted someone to hold me and assure me that it would all be okay. I hope you find someone to do that for you!
Thanks, Judy. Bob’s good at that.
I call out for my mother in my head often yet she has been dead over 30 years. I am 78, widowed now with no children and just a couple of good friends, that are older than me. I often feel that my mother was the only person who truly had my back all my life and to a lesser degree, my father. I miss both greatly. Mary.
Hi, Mary Ellen, I wish I’d seen your comment sooner. I’m glad your mother has your back, that she still has your back. And I wish good health for you and for your good friends.
After the 2004 Asian tsunami, Eliza Gilkyson wrote a beautiful song called Requiem. It is. a prayer to Mary. I think she understood very well that when people cry out for their mother (or father) in grief or fear or pain, that they are not asking for someone to fix the problem. They are asking to be held. The loveliest lyrics of the song: “Oh, mother Mary come and carry us in your embrace. Let us see your gentle face.” You’re doing a great job, and it seems you are well in touch with your feelings. I hope you will be able to feel your mama’s embrace and see her gentle face when you need or want her.
Thank you, Lee. Bob and I both like the song. Makes me think of the Beatles song, “Mother Mary, come to me…Thanks for your kindness and good wishes.
Thanks, Peggy. I love your writing.
I too had a dad who wore bow ties and a hat in the 50s.
And my darling mother dressed my in a hat identical to yours!
Thank you, Pat. I love that bow tie and fedora look. Brings back wonderful memories. Bothers me when actors like Brad Pitt jam one of those hats on their heads in an ironic eye-roll way.
I sometimes call on my parents ( deceased) , the way others may call on the saints. To get closer to their strengths, and to have their aid if they can from where they are now.
Lauren, I recently said to my sister-in-law Willa that I channel Mom when I have to do financial stuff. Willa said that she channeled her when she had to do something she didn’t want to do. Mom was an impressive businesswoman. I think it/she helps us both.