Among the treasures I’ve saved to remind me of Momma is her little mirror. It’s about 2x3 inches in a leather frame. It’s the mirror she kept in her purse and the one she took to the hospital when she had her surgery in March.
After surgery, in which the doctor removed part of her jaw, lymph nodes and the inside of her cheek, I dreaded the first time Mom would look into a mirror. This once ravishingly beautiful woman, still vain in a quiet, understated way, would be horrified and depressed, I feared, when she saw her disfigured face in the mirror.
Yet, I couldn’t stop her from looking, or protect her from her own reality. Nor could I control her feelings. All I could do was pray for courage and acceptance. Prayers were answered. A day or two into her recovery, she asked for the mirror. She studied herself, moving the mirror this way and that to get a full perspective. She didn’t cry or express any of those emotions I feared, emotions I was feeling myself. She accepted and fought for her precious life – in the ICU, in the rehab hospital, and in the nursing facility – up until the very end.
I told Sis I would be the keeper of the mirror, our symbol of courage. I told her that if either of us ever faces disfigurement – or just ugly old age – the mirror will be there for us, to remind us of Momma’s example
Now all of this presumes that as I age and grow ugly, for whatever reason, my mind will still be intact. Will I remember the mirror? Will I know where to find it? Will I be too confused to care?
You may not be around for that late episode of this story, so you’ll just have to remain in suspense.
Sue
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1 comment:
Beautiful sentiments and memories associated with your mother's mirror. Thank you for sharing. I have some of those bits and pieces of my mom and dad's lives...to bring back fun memories, bittersweet memories, sad memories, and courageous memories...that make up the patchwork of our lives. They're all to be treasured.
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