I have a friend who has been her mother's caretaker for the all too many years of a progressive illness that robbed her of her mother a very long time ago...which actually leaves her the caretaker of a stranger whose high maintenance needs have also robbed my friend of her own life, as well. She maintains her sanity through her blogging (something I relate to very well), and she recently posted a very articulate list of what does and does not help her to feel supported.
As a supportive friend goes, I was doing pretty well until the "h" word came up. And after reading her list, I promised her that I would not ever say that word to her again. But since this is my blog, I can say it right out loud...lol.
The word in question is Hero.
I am not the only person who feels very strongly that she (and her children) are all heroes...but she doesn't feel supported by it when we tell her so. She has her reasons, and they are not the motivation for this blog. But I have continued to think about what constitutes the word hero.
Would a firefighter be less of a hero if he or she grumbled about having to leave in the middle of their daughter's birthday party to save a person's house from burning down? Absolutely not. If a soldier yells at his bunker mate because he or she's exhausted and misses home with a longing ache in their heart, does that make them any less of a hero, either? No! I could, of course, go on and on with hypotheticals, but the answer is always going to be, "No!" Because these imperfections make them human, not anti-heroes.
People don't have to feel like a hero to be one, and that is just the rock hard bottom line....it's all about perspective.
So, fine...if (from my friend's perspective) she can't see herself as a hero, then fine...I won't use the "h" word in her presence. But from her mom's perspective, she is absolutely her mother's hero. Maybe she's not always patient or kind, but I don't know a single person on this planet who would be!
But when it comes to her mom, she advocates for her mother in a way that nobody else would, and that's the truth. She has ordered her entire life around doing everything she can to maintain optimal stability for her mother. She moved out of her own house so that she could take care of her mom in the most familiar setting. She has endured countless sleepless nights, rejected crappy daycare centers, and tolerated arrogant doctors...all in the name of doing the best she can to advocate for and take care of her mother....and, yes, that even includes the days when Dave's not home...lol.
So, if this doesn't constitute being a hero, then I don't know what does.
And maybe it still doesn't matter what any of the rest of us see when we look in as an outsider, but I do know this much: On that day when my friend goes to heaven, she WILL be greeted by her mother who is going to hug her, tell her how much she loves her, forgive her for any raised voices or impatient discourtesies, but most importantly she will tell my friend how grateful she is that her amazing daughter was her hero during the darkest days of her life on earth....of this I am absolutely certain.
My friend may not be able to see herself as a hero...but we do...her mom will...and God does!
I don't know why it is so hard for us to see ourselves as flawed and imperfect human beings. Even saints are imperfect human beings. And as much as I wish my friend could feel the truth of what the rest of us see, what hurts my heart more than this is knowing that the reason why she can't is because she is carrying a heavy burden within her heart of every imperfect moment that she has lived as her mom's caregiver.
I actually understand this feeling, at least my own version of it. I had the same role with my mom, only it was thrust upon me as a child (rather than as an adult, like my friend). And I still carry the weight of this burden, as well...because I hated my mother (at the time) for the way her illness and limitations as a human being impinged unfairly upon a daughter's life. And what I needed from my mom was for her to be my hero...but that's not what I had. Instead, I had become her hero.
I never saw it that way at the time, but after a lifetime of conflict and inner turmoil, I can finally see the truth of it...how even a young child can be her mother's hero...and I was.
It's taking me a lifetime to make peace with the conflicted relationship I had with my mom...and the guilt I have lived with for abandoning my mom's needs so that I could pursue my own life's dreams. And for her to die while I was halfway around the world in Germany serving my county's needs snd my own (rather than hers) is a burden I still carry and search for my own forgiveness. And while I am certain that my mom (now) understands and forgives me a million times over....it's the forgiveness of one's self that is the greatest challenge....and sometimes even an entire lifetime isn't enough time for this challenge to be met.
So if I still cringe at the horrible things an angry daughter said to her bed ridden and emotionally limited mother over 40 years ago, I can absolutely understand how it may take more time for my friend who is still very much in the thick of it to work through her own feelings.
So I won't use the "H" word in her presence.
Me? Well, I am treking my entire life to the other side of the world to make peace with my mom...to pipe for her on her birthday at the grave site I haven't visited since we buried her nearly thirty years ago. So I am learning how to let go of this heavy bursen of guilt.
But I also know that on the day when I go to heaven, my own mom will greet me, hug me, tell me how much she loves me, forgive me for my own thoughtless words and hurtful deeds, and then she will thank me for being her hero for all of those long years when she should have been mine....
...and I will be able to forgive her, too.