A Caregiving Comfort: Slip

Denise

A Caregiving Comfort: Slip

Denise
The slip has somehow become the enemy.

It's not what I wear but I what I fear.

Will my mom slip?

Will I slip and overlook what's most important?

Will I slip and disclose what my parents have asked I keep mum about?

It's a slippery slope, this caregiving gig.

So I look for the handrails. I steer my mom toward the rails when we're walking. I grab onto my trusty To Do list to keep track. I focus on keeping private for my parents so they can disclose at their discretion.

So, if it's not about what I wear and how I feel, I will choose to feel hope. My mom will slip so I hope her slips will be followed by gentle landings and our comforting presence. I will slip, too. I hope my slips will lead me to a better perspective, moment, relationship.

I hope, when all is said and done, that St. Peter slips me a note that says, "You did your best, which gets you here."

Which is why I'll see you there, too.

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