This is a process…

She jokingly called me “Mommy” during my visit. She did this because she thought I was ‘babying’ her. Being an overprotective daughter. My response to this always made her laugh: “Moeder…this is just full service daughtering! Complete with making appointments, replacing light bulbs, bringing in repair people, laundry, grocery shopping, chauffeur service, making funny faces at you, and holding hands!” She got a kick out of my response every time. It helped to lighten the mood.

We are still in that grey area where she knows something is happening to her, but is also mindlessly unaware at the same time. Fading. Like there’s an elephant in the room that no one talks about. Like she is disappearing in front of our eyes and no one talks about it. With every trip home though I notice what faculties are no longer there; what sort of functionality she now has and doesn’t have anymore. The differences are sometimes shocking, but I’m pleased with my improved ability to ‘go on the journey’ with her and not get as agitated or impatient with her. I’m getting better at dealing with this…I think. Often times she thinks I’m ‘babying’ her not realizing that she actually can’t do or isn’t doing the task or activity herself anymore. Rather than bring attention to it, I choose to make her laugh. It’s the best medicine. For us both.

I held her hand a lot. Probably more than I ever did before. Practically everywhere we went I held onto her. She noticed again thinking I was ‘babying’ her. At one point she chuckled and said to me, “you know I can walk into the grocery store by myself…” She wasn’t upset. I think she thought it was sweet…me being protective of her, but she didn’t understand. I wasn’t trying to be protective of her…at least not fully. I just wanted to hang onto her. Stay here with me. I wanted to connect with her. I wanted her to feel my strength and my love for her. I didn’t realize how important that was to me until it was pointed out to me that I was doing it so often. I knew right in that moment that I was really just being selfish, wanting to hang onto her in any way that I could.

The thing is when I reflect and process my most recent trip, I think to myself: we have to hold them close. We have to listen to them. We have to let them talk. Even if it doesn’t make sense. Even if it’s out of order. Even if it’s not real. Because this is all that’s left. This is all we have. This time. Our time. Holding hands…while we walk to the grocery store. Or to the hardware store for more light bulbs. Or driving to the beach. Or going for dinner. Or watching a movie. It all counts. Even the smallest, most insignificant parts count. They always count, but they count more when time is running out.

In other news, I recently finished my 2017 triathlon season. 3 Half Ironmans, 2 Olympics, and 1 Sprint for the year. I only bring it up here because of how close that part of my life and this part of my life are connected. I reignited my triathlon journey last year as an outlet for my grief. It’s a space where I feel alive when so often I feel like a piece of me is dying. You feel invincible. And that sense of euphoria and accomplishment makes getting up, wiping away tears, shaking off distress, and moving forward easier. I am extremely proud of my performance this year despite the emotional and physical setbacks. Some days it is not easy to keep it moving when your heart is breaking, or you’re feeling useless, or fragile, or weak, or unloved, or unworthy. But I never wanted to quit. In so many other areas, people are quitting on me left and right so no, fuck that! This is one place where I have control; where I have the last say, where I make impossible things happen. I can say without any hesitation that there was never a moment in training or racing where I wanted to give up. I never said I’m done or I’m just gonna stop. I may have wanted to walk or take a break and sometimes I did. Straight up. But I always got it going again. I always finished strong, but most importantly, I always finished. Every morning that I got up (and still get up!) at 4am or 5am, or trained on my lunch break, or stayed out until it got dark after work, I took those as opportunities and pushed harder to reach my goals. Because this is bigger than me. This isn’t just a competition to me. I am saving myself. I am connecting with myself. I am connecting with my parents. I am connecting with my teammates. I am connecting with a higher power and fighting for my livelihood. Triathlon is not for the faint of heart. You have to want it bad. I don’t have any of the fancy gear so this is all reliant on me…my engine, my heart, my mind, getting me to that finish line or to the end of that workout. Triathlon forces you to dig deep. A friend of mine told me, “when it starts to get hard or uncomfortable, that’s when you have to start digging.” And that has really stuck with me. I find myself saying that to myself in many workouts and races. “C’mon Susan…time to start digging. Let’s go.” Triathlon teaches you to push yourself beyond what you think you’re mentally and physically capable of and that was exactly what I’ve needed since this whole journey with my moeder started. I do often times feel weak, and fragile, and useless…God, so useless. But not here.

Here…I flourish. Here I fly. Here I carry their hearts in my heart and I take them with me and we are one. Here we are free. Here I am alive. 

Here you can prepare your body and your mind to overcome anything. If you want it bad enough…all opportunities and possibilities are open to you. And God…words can’t describe how badly I want to give that strength to my mom. I wish I could harness it and have her use it to fight this cruel and awful disease. If I could, I would do it without a second’s hesitation.

And so I continue to work through my feelings about my most recent trip home and all that I experienced there. I try to accept what has changed and continue onward (and into the off season) blessed to have my triathlon family and the support of so many wonderful people who really want the best for me. In the months to come, I will continue to make my mom laugh and smile and try to find ways to harness my strength in triathlon to other areas of my life. I’m not sure how to make that jump or transition, but God willing, I’m going to try. And anyone who knows me knows I’m relentless AF so it’ll happen at some point, ha!

Onward.