A morning visit with my mom reminded me that some of the best moments we share come from the conversations we don't quite have right.
Helping Mom
Stories from the journey of caring for an aging parent
I visited Mom this morning, and somewhere between what I said and what she heard, we apparently ended up having two entirely different conversations.
Mom is hard of hearing. My hearing isn't exactly earning any awards either.
That means there are times when she doesn't catch what I say, I don't catch what she says, and our attempts to clear things up only make the conversation more confusing.
Sometimes we try again.
Sometimes we get tickled.
And once we start laughing, whatever we were trying to say has to wait.
Those moments are becoming some of my favorites.
Helping an aging parent comes with a lot to think about.
Appointments. Medications. Bills. Getting around safely. Making sure something that used to be easy hasn't become difficult. Figuring out when to offer help and when to give someone room to do things their own way.
There are decisions you wish came with clearer answers. There are things you worry about on the drive home. There are days when you feel stretched before anyone has even asked you for anything.
I know that part of this life, too.
I love my mother, and I'm grateful I can help her. I also know how much attention it takes to keep up with everything. Loving someone doesn't make the logistics disappear.
So when something funny happens, I'm learning to let myself enjoy it.
The whole laugh. Even if we have to stop talking for a minute to catch our breath.
The list will still be there.
There is something especially funny about two people trying very hard to understand each other while neither is quite sure what the other person said.
A puzzled look. Another attempt. An answer that has almost nothing to do with the question.
Then comes the moment when we realize just how far the conversation has wandered.
That is usually when we lose it.
We are laughing together, both caught up in the same ridiculous exchange. I'm just as likely to be the one who heard something completely wrong.
For a few minutes, we get to enjoy being mother and son without discussing anything that needs to be scheduled, fixed, paid, or checked.
I need that. I suspect she does, too.
"For a few minutes, we get to enjoy being mother and son without discussing anything that needs to be scheduled, fixed, paid, or checked."
When you're helping someone you love, it can become surprisingly easy to make every visit about what needs doing.
You arrive with a list in your head. You notice the things that need attention. You ask the necessary questions. Before long, it's time to leave, and you've accomplished quite a bit without really enjoying each other.
I understand how it happens. There is often a lot to get done, especially when you don't live around the corner.
But I want Mom to look forward to seeing me for reasons beyond what I can help her manage.
I want us to have something to laugh about. I want to hear what she thinks. I want to sit long enough for the conversation to wander, even if neither of us hears every word of it correctly.
She is still my mother, with her own personality, opinions, memories, and sense of humor. There is so much more to our time together than the things she needs help doing.
Laughter gives us a chance to enjoy that part of our relationship.
There are days when a misunderstanding is frustrating. When someone is tired, uncomfortable, worried, or simply worn out from trying to hear.
On those days, another attempt at the joke may be the last thing either person needs.
Sometimes we need to turn down the television, face each other, slow down, and try again. Sometimes we need a little patience with ourselves as well as each other.
I don't believe we have to find something funny in every difficult situation. Some things hurt. Some things deserve tears. Some days, getting through what needs to happen is enough.
But when laughter comes naturally, I don't want to hurry past it.
There is already enough pulling us toward the next concern.
I'm learning to leave a little room.
Room for a story I may have heard before. Room for another cup of coffee. Room for a conversation that doesn't accomplish anything in particular.
And room for the moment when one of us says something, the other hears something completely different, and suddenly we're both laughing.
Those moments count.
If you are helping an aging parent, you probably carry a running list of concerns, too. You may be handling things other people never see. You may arrive at a visit tired and leave with three more things to do.
I hope you also get a moment that catches you by surprise. A familiar expression. A perfectly timed remark. A misunderstanding so absurd that you can't help yourself.
You're allowed to enjoy it, even during a difficult season.
This morning, Mom and I didn't hear every word.
We did have a good time together.
And I'm still smiling about it.
What is something you and your parent still laugh about together?