The Wooden Bowl

Someone sent this to me and I wanted to share it because it touched me. Older people are just us....but smaller and slower.

The Wooden Bowl

I guarantee you will remember the tale of the Wooden Bowl tomorrow, a week from now, a month from now,
A year from now.

A frail old man went to live with his son, daughter-in-law, and four-year-old grandson.
The old man's hands trembled, his eyesight was blurred, and his step faltered

The family ate together at the table. But the elderly grandfather's shaky hands and
failing sight made eating difficult. Peas rolled off his spoon onto the floor.
When he grasped the glass, milk spilled on the tablecloth.

The son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess.
'We must do something about father,' said the son.
'I've had enough of his spilled milk, noisy eating, and food on the floor.'

So the husband and wife set a small table in the corner.
There, Grandfather ate alone while the rest of the family enjoyed dinner.
Since Grandfather had broken a dish or two, his food was served in a wooden bowl.

When the family glanced in Grandfather's direction, sometimes he had a tear in his eye as he sat alone.
Still, the only words the couple had for him were sharp admonitions when he dropped a fork or spilled food.

The four-year-old watched it all in silence.

One evening before supper, the father noticed his son playing with wood scraps on the floor.
He asked the child sweetly, 'What are you making?' Just as sweetly, the boy responded,
'Oh, I am making a little bowl for you and Mama to eat your food in when I grow up.'
The four-year-old smiled and went back to work.

The words so struck the parents so that they were speechless. Then tears started to stream down their cheeks. Though no word was spoken, both knew what must be done.

That evening the husband took Grandfather's hand and gently led him back to the family table.
For the remainder of his days he ate every meal with the family. And for some reason,
Neither husband nor wife seemed to care any longer when a fork was dropped, milk spilled, or the tablecloth soiled.

We are all here............

My Mom has a hospice team of 5 people, which does not count her doctor. In addition we have 2 outside paid helpers that come at least 2 days a week, sometimes more. I could make it without everyone. They make life for Mom and me so much easier. It is a scarey thing for me to give Mom a shower because she is so shakey and I can't begin to imagine what would happen if she fell.

The thing that makes life so much easier also makes it so different. I love each and every one of the people who come here, but I remember times when it was Arnie and I or just me...and it didn't matter what the house looked like or if I was dressed yet. I know it doesn't matter now either, but I think it does. They aren't coming to be entertained by me they come to care for Mom.

The first time one of the paid caregivers cleaned the kitchen and did the laundry I was embarrassed, because in my mind she was doing it because I couldn't handle things on my own. Now I am so grateful for the help and I want to cry with happiness when I come home to clean kitchen and stacked and folded laundry.

Herein lies the problem at times. People coming in and out of the house do things differently than I do. So the laundry is folded differently than I fold it. Things are put away in places that I don't put them and then Arnie wants to know where things are and I have no idea.

There are days that the Hospice people overlap and they are happy to see each other and catch up and we all talk together. It can be a little on the loud side,but happy sounds. I want my privacy but what will I do when they no longer come here? They have been taking care of Mom for a year now....and they know the family, my siblings, my neices, my daughter and grand-daughter. I know there will be a time when it is just Arnie and I and sometimes just me. It will be weird. For now, we are all here.