Time Goes By

 At the beginning of this week I looked at the calendar and saw that the week was completely clear.   No classes to teach  (I only have two classes running on Sundays right now > still waiting for ODS to re-open).   No dogs coming or going.  Even therapy and the trauma group are off this week.   And I thought, great, a whole week with no commitments, I’ll be able to get lots of stuff done.   And here it is, Wednesday, and I’ve accomplished nothing.   I don’t even know where the days have gone.   It’s been a challenge just to get up each day.   My mind is foggy and I feel that my cognizant ability is not online.    I feel like I could sit and do nothing but cat nap all day.   Where has my energy gone?  Where has my passion gone?   I can’t even remember what it feels like to be joyful.   I woke up this morning feeling sad and on the verge of tears.   How is that even possible?   How can one be sad in their sleep?   

As I go through these feelings I’m remembering my mother during the last few years of her life  (probably two years).  She just sat in the recliner chair in the living room,  day in and day out.   Watching tv and cat napping.   Only getting up to go to the bathroom.   Dad and I catered to her every other need.    She was able to get up without assistance and could walk around the house without the aid of a walker,  although she had a walker for those rare occasions that she went out.   She could get up to make a cup of tea,  but instead would ask Dad or me to bring her one.   And we did.   She rarely went out other than for a doctor’s appointment.   She had one friend, who was her doctor’s wife.  They bonded over being Irish.    They would meet  for lunch two or three times a year.    Other than that she spoke to no one other than Dad and me,  except her sister.  My aunt also lived up on Georgian Bay just a few kilometers from where we lived.  My mom and my aunt usually spoke on the telephone daily.   But she didn’t always want to speak with her sister because conversations were difficult due to my aunt being in the early stages of dementia.    My aunt hadn’t been diagnosed at the time,  and her mental fog agitated my mother because she thought it was just the result of the alcoholism.  And my mother had little tolerance for alcoholics.   But they spoke once a day nevertheless.    My mom had one other Irish friend from her days with the Toronto Opera Repertoire.   But she lived in Toronto and we lived up on Georgian Bay.   I remember when we first moved up there,  Moira  (not her real name)  came up to visit a few times.   And my mom was always happy and laughing during those visits.   She and Moira would be like silly school girls,  singing, and laughing,  and telling stories.   But over time the visits became fewer until they fizzled out completely.   There was no fallout > just life got in the way.     We lived on Edmore Beach for twelve years.   In the last couple of years though, no one visited and my mom rarely went out.   I can just see her sitting in that chair.   No joy.  No passion.  No motivation.   It was like she was just waiting to die.   And when I have days like the days I’ve been having lately I think, “Oh my God …. I’ve become my mother”,  just doing nothing, biding the time until I die.    And I feel sad for my mom because if she felt what I’m feeling now,  I feel guilty for not knowing that she was suffering mentally.  As I think back,  I realize that she was probably depressed during those years.   Her crankiness was likely depression.   And her need to control my Dad and I by having us cater to her every whim, was probably the only thing she felt she had control over in her life.   She certainly had no control over her health as it slowly diminished.

 

Toronto Opera Repertoire

My mother always wanted to be in show business.    She loved singing and in her young adulthood had taken singing lessons and aspired to become a professional singer.   That all went by the wayside when she decided to get married and have children.   I’m not sure how or  where I heard about the Toronto Opera Repertoire.   But it was quite some years after my sister had died and I was an adult,  I think after I’d left dance.   At any rate, I’d heard about the TOR and told my mother about.   The TOR was an amateur opera company that put on full length theatre productions of various operas.   The artistic director of the group was a fellow named Guiseppe,  and he ran the company just as if it were a  professional group.   Some of the members of the group were professional singers using the TOR to gain experience in leading and supportive roles, while people like my mother were part of the ensemble.  My mom auditioned and became part of the company and it was there that she met her friend Moira,  another Irish lady.   They became fast friends.   This was a very happy time in my mothers life.  She became good friends with Guiseppe as well, and got involved with fund raising and hosting the yearly TOR banquet.   She loved the comradery of the opera company,  and the rehearsals, and the costumes,  the fun,  the laughing,  and the singing.   It was like she was getting a chance to live that life that she had always wanted.   I can’t remember how many years she was involved with the TOR,  but I think our move from Toronto up to Georgian Bay might have played a role in her leaving.    Opera has never appealed to me but I did go to the dress rehearsals and take photo’s of my mom and help her with costumes and make up.

When we first moved up north things were good I think.   It’s kind of fuzzy.   But I do remember my parents planting flower beds,  and my dad building a fish pond and the excitement of getting the fish;  extending the back deck, etc.   And my dad built the dog kennel building and he and I put up the fencing to give the dogs a huge outdoor yard just for them.   We had an extension built onto the existing cottage so that it would be large enough for three adults to live comfortably,  and had it winterized for year round living.  So there was purpose in getting the place just right and my mom took pride in her flower beds.   She  (we)  visited with my aunt.   At that point she still went out shopping. 

And of course,  she had those visits from her TOR friend Moira.  But over time things fizzled out as things do,  and my moms health deteriorated,  and life lost its lustre.   We were all just going through the motions.   

And that’s kind of where I find myself now ….. just going through the motions.   I can’t see ahead to anything better.    And I can’t conceive of living like this indefinitely.