A Mother's Touch
by jaelpn | 8,904 Views | 3 Comments
Memories are a treasured secret; sometimes we bury these memories in the back of our minds and one day something will remind us to look back and appreciate all that our mother has done for us.
- 18 Published Jan 22, '11"A mother is she who can take the place of all others but
whose place no one else can take."
-- Cardinal Mermillod
There is a place in everyone's heart that will always remember "Mom"...the touch of a gentle hand that is placed on our foreheads when we are running a fever, a kleenex swiped across our tiny noses when we have a cold, a hand that reaches out to us when we cross the street. Memories are a treasured secret; sometimes we bury these memories in the back of our minds and one day something will remind us to look back and appreciate all that our mother has done for us.
As a nurse- I have witnessed many of my alzheimer residents searching for "mom"... forgetting that their mother has passed away years ago. There is something in all of us, that no matter how far our mothers may be; no matter how old we may become- we still need our mother's touch. I have often sat next to a scared resident and allowed them to talk about their fears until they have drifted off to sleep. I've kissed a forehead, I have walked hand in hand down the hallway to show them their room when they have lost their way. In a way, I have become the mother of a child. I have wiped runny noses, I have put on many socks and tied shoes. I have done something as simple as put on a band-aid and I see the gleam of someone's eyes as if to remember when mom use to cure all boo-boo's. As I am passing my medications, taking doctor's orders, assessing someone who has fallen on the floor- I have heard people pass by and say "Thank goodness I don't have that job..." I would be lying if I told you that nursing was an easy job. Even when I leave work and come home- I am still a nurse. There is not a day that goes by, that something doesn't remind me of caregiving.
A mother's heart is golden. She gives birth to us, she feeds us, bathes us, teaches us, disciplines us, and most of all- loves us. I know that my mom had her hands full with five children. She made sure we had our homework done, took us to the library to allow us to explore the world of reading and to gain knowledge, made sure we had a nice warm house with plenty of food. I couldn't have asked for better parents than my mom and dad. We were never spoiled; we did chores every day, we worked hard for our allowance. We had movie nights, we caught fireflies outside on a summers night. When I look back on my childhood, I remember making a kite with my mom and going out in the field when the wind was strong and watching the kite go way up in the sky. It kind of reminds me of how it is when a mother lets a child go; which ever way the wind blows, mom has to allow her children to take off in life. She still has the kite string to pull us back if the wind current gets too strong, and yet we are free to fly as high as we can in life. Someday, when my mom is much older and needs me, I want to be there for her as much as she was there for me. One day, when I have children of my own, I hope that my hands are gentle and as caring as my own mother's touch.
"Please take care of my mother. Although she may not remember me, she still is the most important woman in my life." This is what one of my residents daughters told me. Although I may only seem like the one that gives out the medications and makes sure she is safe, the resident's family believes that my hands may be the second most important thing beyond a mother's touch. Those are pretty big shoes to fill, but I'd like to think that maybe I can make a little bit of a difference.Last edit by jaelpn on Jan 22, '11
jaelpn has '4+ nursing, 12 years medical field' year(s) of experience and specializes in 'Assisted living- dementia care'. From 'Somewhere, IL'; 30 Years Old; Joined Dec '05; Posts: 47; Likes: 241.1Jan 29, '11 by twinkletoes53My mother died when I was 20 months old, and my brother had just turned 3. She was 28 years old, and died from complications of surgery. I always wonder what she sounded like, felt like, etc. If I had one wish in the world, it would be to spend just one day with my mother. So I can give her 56 years worth of pent-up hugs and klisses. I do not remember her at all, but I miss her every day.