Detachment

My mother called me yesterday morning, half-crying, half-whining. She had a fever and wasn't feeling well. She probably has the flu. She only got her flu shot about a week ago. I told her if she had a fever then it probably wasn't a cold, according to what my doctor told me anyway, but I'm not a doctor. If she's really sick, she should see someone more qualified than me. Anyway I think she was just depressed and lonely for the most part, but I couldn't talk long. The conversation went long enough for her to tell me she was living on burnt toast and yogurt.

Later when I went out grocery shopping, I picked up a few things for her. Nothing major, just soup and crackers, ice cream, ginger ale, kleenex, and a small daffodil. I figured if she really was feeling lousy then she probably wasn't getting out much, and this might cheer her up. I called as I was leaving the grocery store and told her I'd be by soon but couldn't stay.

I left my family in the car and brought the groceries in. I put the ice cream in the freezer and it barely fit. She was pretty well stocked up on food, and not in need of groceries at all. She looks lousy though. She's so thin. Maybe it was the white shirt making her look even more skinny, I don't know. She was pretty miserable, and I tried to say some kind words, but I couldn't stay. I've still got a cold myself, and I had groceries and family in the car.

After I left though I thought "Wow! I might never see her alive again. She looks like hell." Now I know that she will probably live to see many more days, but like so many people who don't take good care of themselves, she looks like she could die. I feel bad, and yet I don't. I'm at peace. I made my peace with myself a long time ago. I could let her go. I know it would be sad and all of that, but I didn't do this to her. She did it to herself. It's not my fault. So I hug her in my heart, and wonder when I'll get the call, and I go on with my life.