Mom’s weekly hand-drawn poster-sized calendar is taped to the pantry door. I have learned to take quick initiative each Sunday evening to write my commitments on her calendar in order to avoid her gentle badgering to write my commitments on her calendar. She is smart to keep this calendar, because my explanations of events and dates and times quickly confuse and overwhelm her. As I wrote on this week’s calendar, she called from her recliner, “What did you put on the calendar?” I wanted to answer, What’s the point of me writing on the calendar if you’re just going to ask me what’s on the calendar? Why don’t you come and take a look for yourself at your calendar? She persists: “What did you write in green?” I opened the pantry door to show her, but she cannot read her poster from that far away. I sighed. “Tomorrow. 7:00 p.m. Planning Commission meeting.” That’s tomorrow? Wednesday? “Yes, Mom.” And the next night is the police department awards banquet, so I’ll be home late two days in a row. That one is written in fuchsia. I am slow to understand that her mundane uneventful daily routine means everything to her sense of stability and calm. Disruptions in daily the routine destabilize and frighten her. Add to this her loneliness. “I’m sad you’ll be gone,” she laments. “I will miss you.” And this time I actually do verbalize to her how inadequate a roommate I am for her, and how sometimes she becomes so clingy that I want to pull away. “I’m sorry, dear,” she whispers, defeated. Not only have I disrupted her routine with my green and pink events, but I have made her feel small and ashamed in her loneliness. She needs a better roommate.
Rabbit Lane 
No, Roger, Mom doesn’t need another roommate. None of us like to be a burden to our children, and we know when we are, just by their reactions to our needs. Actually, Roger, maybe what Mom needs is a care-giver. Sorry. Still love ya though.
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Roger, I needed to read this today. After answering the same question about 12 times in a row, I sighed loudly and put my head against the headrest in the car and looked over at my mum in complete exasperation. She said, “I’m sorry I’m so annoying to you” and didn’t speak to me the rest of the way home. I made her feel badly about herself. IT IS SO VERY HARD.
You are the best roommate. You are doing the best you can and that is A LOT. Tomorrow, we get to try again and maybe do a little bit better.
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Thanks Sylvia. You understand exactly. How blessed we are to have our tomorrows to try anew. I’m pleased my writing was helpful to you in some way.
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Don’t feel bad, dear, friend, I just watched a video of my being an ass to my precious and dear father. Angry at God, I said to him, if he wanted my assistance, call my name, not Jesus’s. I was sick of hearing that name of he who never helped.
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Hi Dawn. I would like to believe the Divine is present, giving help and comfort to our effort and grief in ways we may not perceive but are real and important and that still let us experience fully this life. That is my hope. I add my humble presence in sitting with you in a time of pain and sorrow. 💚
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My punctuation is not good. Proofreading is a monumental event right now
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No need to be perfect for me or anyone else. Be yourself. Let yourself just sit with it all and be.
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