Yesterday, before I went to the visitation for my mother’s best friend, I received a text from her caregiver informing me, she is quitting the agency. This means another hunt for the ideal person who will fit best with my mother. Already emotionally compromised, I kept thinking, can this wait? My stomach clenched feeling impending doom. You see, my mother has no idea of the transition that is about to occur. I am waiting. Waiting for after the funeral of her friend. Waiting until after her treatment is complete that will, hopefully, help with her vertigo issues. Waiting.
My brain isn’t waiting. I am creating scenarios in my head. Not going to lie, friends, I am in a state of fear. Fear that we won’t find another caregiver. Fear that the treatments won’t help. But, fear is really masked grief. Grief of loss whether it is a competent person to aid my mother, the reality of the aging process or the void of someone leaving this earthly plane. It is real. It is palpable. It is uncomfortable.
I thought a new day would bring new awareness. That simply a good night’s sleep would ease the anxiety. Nope. That was not the experience. I woke up this morning with dread. Stomach still clenched. Mind unsettled. But, I am feeling it. Feeling on edge. Feeling the need for a solution. I know that the solution is there, it just hasn’t been revealed. But, I need to get through the day. Being gentle with myself as I bid farewell to my mother’s best friend. Being a support to the family. Because, it can wait. Everything can wait.