Becoming an adult . . .

I guess I always knew this day would come.

Wednesday, I assumed the role of the parent of my parents. I knew it would be hard, but I had no idea it was this hard.

My mother was transfered to a nursing home from the hospital. She was informed that she would be there until such time as she could get out of her wheelchair and walk at least three steps. It may be that a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, but that second and third appear daunting.

As I stood by her bed at the home, she and my father both making chatter to the nurse, the inescapable weight that she might never return home settled on my shoulders. I saw them for the first time as two people who could no longer fend for themselves. It drove me deeply into thought. . . .and dread . . . and anger.

On the long drive home, I had to fight constantly with the anger. Why had they let this get this far. Why didn't they take action when they first talked of it three or four years ago. Why did they leave it to me to make the decisions none of us want to make. Why did my life so suddenly suck.

When I arrived home and talked with Diana, I began to turn the corner on the anger, because I realized that I was not alone, that I would have support.

This will not be an easy journey, now I know. I will be distracted, quick to outbursts, sullen and moody. But I will get through this with the support of my family. I apologize in advance for being an SOB at the worst possible times.

And you thought kids were hard . . .