Finding it difficult to settle to work this afternoon, nevertheless, one drawing of the transit of Mercury is finished; number seven of around fourteen, thus I have reached the half way mark.
I call my mother and her voice brightens on the other end of the telephone as she tells me that it is good to hear my voice. I reply that it is good to hear her's, also and for just a few moments the conversation proceeds on an even keel. It quickly plunges into irretrievable depths,however, as she becomes tearful , describing how she wishes she were dead, she will die of loneliness and isolation. The conversation closes on an angry note as she puts the telephone down, and I am left in a welter of frustration and self hatred for having upset her. She had told me that she was afraid to walk the few steps into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea in case she fell ( she has very little sight and her ability to balance is compromised). I replied that if that were indeed the case then perhaps it was indicative of her need to be in residential care. She became furious with me and I regretted the words as soon as they had left my mouth; I realised that once more I had spoken where perhaps I should have been silent. Why cannot I be kind to her? What would a person for whom kindness is second nature have said? What would someone other than a tired, frightened, despairing daughter have said?
No comments:
Post a Comment