Night Shift

My favorite time of day is evening. For as long as I can remember I have always been a night owl. Often the last one up, I selfishly soak up these last few hours of the day when the constant stream of daily demands can be temporarily placed on a shelf.

      But not all evenings can be counted on to provide this much anticipated respite. Life’s demands are not always so conveniently set aside, and when certain moments require our full attention it is rarely with regard to time or convenience. Lying here now, I find myself heaving a sigh of relief as the calm steady rhythm of sleep can finally be detected, signaling the end of another chaotic day.

      Giving Dad some much needed time away, my sister and I have offered to take care of Mom for the week. Although grateful to play a meaningful part in her care, I have found myself approaching this date on the calendar with anxious anticipation. A couple of days now under my belt, and despite the evidence now clearly surrounding me, I find my brain still searches for a way to fix this latest blow to our family. Quickly frustrated with this futile exercise, I finally let my mind wander and a memory of another evening long ago, similar but different in so many ways, surfaces…

      Of all the things I might have anticipated as we prepared to welcome our first baby home, a scrambled biological clock was not one. In hindsight I guess it should have been obvious. Spending three nights in a hospital is not much different than that of a casino, minus the bottomless drinks and entertainment of course. The constant bright lights and oxygen-filled rooms make deciphering day from night almost impossible. So as I was wheeled out to go home in what I thought was the early pre-dawn hours, precious tiny Londyn securely in my arms, I was momentarily shocked to be greeted by the sun brightly shining down on a day already bustling with activity. Having only just recently soothed her into a peaceful sleep, I was relieved in that moment to discover this first introduction into the outside world had not stirred her a bit. A moment I would soon learn to regret.

        After a full day of being passed around by her adoring grandparents, aunts and uncles alike, the time came for all to make their reluctant trek back up to Dallas. Mom however stayed behind, explaining a desire to stick around and help for a few days. Although I was grateful to share this special time, I wasn’t sure there would be much for her to do. After all how much trouble can something so tiny cause? Quite a bit as we would soon discover when day turned into night, and the first of her tiny wails began. Initially cute, her cries over the evening became stronger and more insistent, a non-stop chorus of which no amount of feeding or rocking seemed to soothe. To my utter horror and dismay, Mom would proceed to calmly observe that our dear baby girl simply had her days and nights flipped, and rewiring her brain to set things right would take some time.

        Already physically and mentally drained, this seemingly impossible task would unveil the true reason for my mom’s presence. Insisting Sean and I get some much needed rest, Mom would spend the nights of that first week walking up and down the small halls of our apartment, bouncing and singing to our sweet Londyn. Like a memory in a bottle pulled off the shelf, this one is precious to me as I recall witnessing this beautiful dance between Mimi and her granddaughter …

      Life has a way of coming full circle. The roles have been reversed and it is now my turn to step in and take the night shift. Like those beautiful nights so many years ago, I keep watch so my restless mother can steal a few hours of much needed rest. Bravely battling through the final stages of dementia which now has her mind firmly and mercilessly in its grip, I find myself resigned to the fact no amount of rewiring can set things right. So in the increasingly rare moments hunger strikes, my sister and I make sure she is fed. We keep her clean and comfortable, and just like Mom who walked those hallways so many years ago with my beautiful baby girl, we talk with her. Reassurances are shared and calming words spoken as we work to soothe her increasing moments of agitation and sadness.

       There is no purer form of love than to be present for someone in their most vulnerable moments. As I reflect on my life, I can only now appreciate in hindsight this beautiful lesson my mom left behind, an act of selflessness she quietly demonstrated time and time again. And so it is, in these final hours as her symptoms take a sudden turn, that her family gathers to observe this final night shift together. Holding her hands and kissing her forehead, we share our final words of love to guide her way as she gently slips into the next world. As life finally exits, a look of peace suddenly crosses her face and the familiar memory of Mimi and Londyn resurfaces. But there is suddenly a..shift..and the vision of my sweet tiny infant is now replaced with that of a young adult Londyn. Shift again… and my mom is there, beautiful and whole. One final shift… and the old apartment melts away, its hallways relocated to a place that time and death cannot touch. And a smile crosses my face as I see them there, finally reunited, dancing together once again.