A son's love

My husband is a good man.  He is compassionate.  He is helpful.  He has good firm morals and values, compatible with my own.

His momma raised him well.  He had chores around the house, starting when he was very young and ending when he was old enough to drive a tractor.  Storiesare re-told  about the hierarchy of household chores and how they were assigned and re-assigned to the three children (notice I did not say four because the older ones said Mike somehow never had to dust, clean the bathroom, or run the sweeper). They were taught to take care of themselves and cooked meals and kept clothes clean.

We have been married 40 years.  You always hear about how women can tough it out through any illness while men take to their beds for a runny nose.  Well it is just the opposite for us.  I am a terrible patient, but Gary always takes care of me, no matter what.  From taking care of meal prep and bringing me another box of tissues to helping me with personal cleanliness while I was in the hospital after knee replacement surgery (maybe TMI?), he takes care of me.

When the girls were little, he was their best caregiver.  Since he was home with them when he wasn't planting or harvesting and while I was teaching, he could wipe noses, calm stomach aches, and fix chicken soup.  It is commonly known in our family that if I see puke (sorry, another TMI?), or even hear someone wretching, I will also begin to gag and lose the contents of my stomach.  So Dad was the designated head holder and had  clean up detail.  He even cleaned out Megan's car when her friend Becky lost her lunch after a weekend visit.

But the most tender act of love I have witnessed recently has been in caring for his mother. He lifts her out of bed.  He moves her into the wheelchair or walks with her into the bathroom.  He helps her take care of her personal hygiene and dispenses of the Depends.  He helps her change out of her soiled pants and top and assists her in putting her head and arms into a fresh top and helps her pull on new sweatpants over a fresh Depends.  Today as she struggled to rise from the portable raised toilet seat, he gently repeated, "Just put your arms around my neck, Ma, and hold on. I've got you." As I watched, I was reminded of the mother/son dance I witnessed 40 years ago, as he spun her around the dance floor at our wedding reception.  Today there was no spinning.  There was just tenderness.

When we tucked her into the hospital bed which I had arranged with clean sheets, a fresh chux, and a new pillow, she cried and said how sorry she was that he had to do this for her, that she had to put him through this.  As he leaned over her and told her that it wasn't a problem, that she had taken care of him when he was a baby, she cried.  She said , "but I did that because I loved you and that is what I had to do..take care of you."  He replied, "and that is why I am here to help you..." And I heard the tears in his voice.

I have loved Gary for 41 years.  He takes care of me without complaint.  My heart melted each time I saw the tenderness of a father's love for his daughters.  I smile when I see his unconditional love for Landon, Tessa, Cooper, and Owen.

But my heart is full of love for this son who is tenderly caring for his mother as she is dying.

Is there a greater love on this earth than that between a mother and her son?