After so many years of working as a nurse, I still find myself waking at 5 am. And at 7 pm I feel a nudge to give Mom a call, as I always did every evening at that time. Today I drove past the spot where mom had a little accident. It was the last time she drove. And when I drive past the D*V I'm reminded of when my dad tried to pass the vision test, but sadly could not connect it all in his mind. The end to his driving.
I can't seem to help these internal "triggers" (for want of a better word) which turn into reminders of another place or time for me. I like the associations that come with them . . . many years of a fulfilling career, wonderful "check in" conversations with Mom, just to hear her voice and know she was OK . . . .
As for the end of my parents' driving days, both somewhat sad times have a wonderful memory attached. It was hard to watch my intelligent dad, after driving for more than 70 years, struggle to connect warning signs, stop signs, etc. But what I remember most about that day is the young man who was testing him. In a busy government agency, he took time with my dad. He let him repeat the test, he talked gently to Dad, and finally suggested that he get a nice ID card that looked just like a driver's license. He understood what we were facing, and he showed us the utmost sensitive care.
What I remember most about mom's accident is the 40-something woman who came to her aid. She saw what was going on and jumped out of her car to help Mom. This angel in disguise phoned me, and gave mom a place to sit in her car while waiting for me to arrive. She gave witness to the accident, made sure mom was OK and was a great comfort to her. She set a high standard for me to emulate.
I like these little reminders of the sweetness of life.
Dotsie, your poignant memories have brought tears to my eyes this morning. I am moved by the sadness of life changes and loss, and I am moved by the tales of compassion. I think we sometimes fail to realize just how much that gestures of compassion impact people, making all the difference.
ReplyDeleteSuch tender memories...
Bittersweet memories. When my dad turned 80 he had to do a written test and although he failed it the first try, was relieved he passed the second time around. When Dad passed away he left his car to our grandson who was proud as punch to have his poppa's car.
ReplyDeleteJudith
Oh how I appreciate your choice to look at the good things, the loving things. These young people truly are ones to be more like. And, though there are trials and tribulations in this life, they will be nothing more than a blip in the big picture of eternity. Wish we could do tea today. I sense that you are missing your mom and I know that I am.
ReplyDelete...missing my mom not yours, but I just have to grin knowing that someday I will meet your mom, too. Reminds me of the song "Look for Me."
ReplyDeleteAll those kindnesses are remembered forever, aren't they.
ReplyDeleteMy dad had his car taken away (with reason) when he was in his late 80s. He was a very unhappy camper for a while. :-(
Memories, like treasures, are meant to be taken out of their precious boxes and handled gently and with great care not to be hurried. Then they are to be put back in their place in their box until another time. All the capsules of grace are available to remind us of who we are and by whom our lives have been forever altered.
ReplyDeleteDotsie, I love those little "brain teasers" as well. I never want them to end. I still pause to look at Mother's Day cards. When I see a bright yellow golf shirt, I want to purchase it for my dad. Their telephone number is still on the tip of my fingers. Dad has been gone fifteen years and mom, seven.
ReplyDeleteBest,
Bonnie
Dotsie, good tears of appreciation for such kindness are sliding down my cheeks. I love that the young man testing your Dad was so sensitive and that the woman who tended your mom after her accident had the heart to go an extra mile. These kind of people give my heart such a squeeze of joy for the good in mankind... undoubtedly sent by the Love of God. Thank you for this message of inspiration... xoxo ~ tanna
ReplyDeleteSuch a sweet post, Dotsie. Memory is a wonderful gift, isn't it? I'm so glad your father's encounter with the licensing people was with that kind and considerate young man. And that someone looked out for your mom. Most people truly are kind.
ReplyDeleteSo touching! Memories are good friends reminding us of all the good and sweet things and at the same time help us to be thankful.
ReplyDeleteI understand totally Dotsie. I often have 'Mum' moments when I see something she like or would like, or certain weather days that she'd appreciate. It's almost 20 years and those feelings still come to me. The same about my mother-in-law. There are some wonderful people out there who are young but have a sensitivity to aging people. Blessings to you today. Hugs, Pam
ReplyDeleteOh Dotsie, my eyes are filling with tears as I read this -- such a sweet post. There really are so many kind people out there and angels in disguise, as well. We are blessed when they cross our paths, for sure. I love that you still have such strong, sweet memories of your parents; that shows what a wonderful job they did.
ReplyDeleteMy husband and I still have these things ahead of us with our parents, and I know they'll be hard, but I hope we handle it gracefully. We've been very fortunate to have good parents.
Have a wonderful weekend!
Denise
Yes and amen! God's blessings in the midst of difficult days are such a gift!
ReplyDeletePodso,
ReplyDeleteExtremely touching to my heart, is this post, dear friend!!! My Dad will turn 91 this June. On my last visit he replied," I'm getting (quite) tired of everyone telling me I can't drive!" I took his hand and gently said,"Dad, I'm not telling you, You can't. I'm telling you, you shouldn't." I'm hoping my gentle spirit, like those of the two in your post, will help him to make the 'right' choice soon!
You give me hope!
Fondly,
Pat