Politics and Crashing family walls

I am not a political girl, I follow the politics because one day it will be history. Wanting to be a history teacher, I find it best to look at both sides. Ah McCain or Obama, well we have Obama-there are many reasons he won and McCain lost. Perhaps Obama reaching out to those who he thought matter most pushed him to win pass McCain. Obama brought the younger generation into the spot light and managed to make them active in the election....and then he targeted the lower classes, the ones who are looked passed so many times that they felt insignificant..but Obama made them feel important again. Many look at Obama as the first black man in the office..not the best canidate to be there. Yes he is a black man-but does his race matter? Is anyone truly "white" anymore? If we look over the years and colonization of this land-we are all mixed with some foreign blood. You look at and Irish man and don't call him white-you say he's Irish- It doesn't truly matter- look at my heritage- I have German-Italian, Scott-Irish, Blackfeet and Cherokee Indian in me. So in theory I am not white, I could be Indian-but my Scott-Irish heritage comes out strong in my appearance. So would I be considered white?

But enough on politics...I just had to get that bit out of me for a bit...Perhaps due to the events taking place in my life now the politics and propaganda floating around is a way of taking my mind off the things that haunt me daily.

My mother isn't doing very well. She has worsened. From hemorrage stroke to having cluster strokes. My mother's illness was no surprise but the threat of it and the condition it had gone to was a surprise. I had no idea she was as ill as she was. The doctor she had was a quack and refused to properly treat her or spend teh time to find out why her hypertension was so bad. If only I could ensure his liscense be revoked I would. But that would not bring my mother back to full health, laughing and playfully arguing with me and my sister.

Now my mother lies in a hospital, a trachea tube in her throat and a feeding tube down her nose...her mind gone...her body swollen.....a sight that no child should see their parent in. I am the oldest So I have to be the strong one. But what am I suppose to do?

Everyday in front of everyone I have to be strong, being the one to say no-this is what is wrong. Answering all the questions of the officials who need to know the situation. Replaying my mother's image each time like a broken movie reel. All over and over-until the end of the night I go to my room. Solitude that isn't so solitude....her image haunts me -her voice rivets my silence. All I want is someone to understand-All i want is someone to hold me and let me cry. Let me be weak for a moment-to be the child that is loosing her mother....but no I do not get that.

I don't want this responsibility. I don't want to be the one to choose the things to be done. But who is there that could do it besides me? Who would not be selfish and choose wrong? Who would only worry about her and her care? Not any of her family. No her sister wants to put her in a facility that isn't rated well at all. Because it won't put out anyone. I laugh at her-HA. Won't put you out, they never saw her when she was well and living in the same town. So why worry about where she is now? Guilt? Wanting forgiveness? Ah perhaps-but she won't be giving that. Not to anyone.

I remember her touch before she got really sick. She sequeezed my hand so tight. The only hug she could give to her daughters who worried so much for their mom. She laughed with her eyes we when told her something funny. But no more. No more will we know our mother that way. Just memories that will replay with stories over adn over again.

My mother was the one I went to when things in my life made me question which way to go. Not my father-but my mom. A mom who didn't judge me for me. A mom who didn't say you are dressing like "those" people, or no you shouldn't dye your hair blue.....or no you shouldn't like that because its not economically stable. No she accepted me-she accepted my sister- we were to girls who stood far from the family mold.

But I must end this now....tears flows so steadily it is hard for me to read what I type and my heart aches so ...perhaps a hot shower and a hug will make the pain go back for awhile and allow me to smile for a bit.

Until later....