I have my mother’s permission to write this post. It wasn’t just my story to tell.
I have talked about the many ways my mother is different from me.
As much as I love her, there are just times she shakes her head and wonders HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?
My mom has had to have incredible powers of grace to put up with some of my…um….wilder days.
There were disagreements and things that could have been different on both sides.
Beyond any of that when I needed her SHE WAS THERE.
As I have grown and healed and physically fought, she’s supported me.
I may not have realized it until today. I mean, the pieces didn’t connect.
It never dawned on me that while I was learning to cope with my handicaps, my mother had had hers for so long that I’d practically forgot they existed.
My mother was blind in left eye.
It was scarred from repeat surgeries and years of glaucoma.
Pictures of my mom as a child had her with little glasses.
She’d had the scarred eye and thick glasses all my life.
I NEVER REMEMBERED.
She had been blind all this time and I never paid attention.
As a child it didn’t matter to her ability to put butter on my toast.
As an adult I was just USED to it.
I hope my kids learn to just accept MY handicap so easily.
They will grow up with the memory of me walking, but I want the life after the strokes to be just as rich.
photo credit: link