For as long as I can remember I, as many kids do, have looked upon my mother as a matriarch. She is the foundation of my family. I am the youngest of 8 children. If I, or any of my siblings, ever had so much as a sniffle Mother was at our side, tissue in one hand, thermometer in the other, ready to nurse us back to perfect health. I have always seen Mother as the strongest most competent woman on the planet. The day I walked into her hospital room and saw my very pale, very small, very weak mother lying in her bed, my whole life changed.
My place in my family was forever altered. I finally understood my mother’s tears as she nursed my grandmother when she would take ill. And for the first time in my entire life I saw my father as a vulnerable, lost individual. As the baby of the family I will forever be a spoiled brat.
An irresponsible little girl who needs her brothers, sister, mother and father to lead her through life. There is no fathomable reason why I would be able to actually make a decision on my own. I am forever in need of the protection and guidance of my loved ones. This was, until recently, the way I was viewed by my family. Then Mother developed cancer. This is when things really began to change in regards to my rank on the family tree.
For reasons I don’t quite recall I was placed in charge of my mothers recovery. It was my job to ensure her comfort and speedy recovery. I assumed the job that I had always thought would be the responsibility of my older siblings. They watched as I cared for her.
The Essay on Television Depiction Of Family Life
Over the past 50 years, the traditional structure of the family has evolved tremendously. The role of each member has changed in many ways. This creates an entirely different chemistry within the family. In the 1950s, the traditional family was composed of a father, mother, and the children that they created within the marriage. The father was usually the disciplinarian and financial provider for ...
Their delusions of a little girl who needed help tying her shoes were demolished. I was now a responsible, capable woman. The title of caretaker passed from Mother to me. For as far back as my memory goes, I remember my grandmother being sick and hurting. I watched my mother take care of her my entire life.
In and out of hospitals, surgery after surgery, Mother was always the one to take care of my grandmother. Sometimes I would see my mother cry. She would fix my grandmother breakfast or wash and curl her hair or just bring her a glass of water, and leave the room and begin to cry. I didn’t really understand the full magnitude of her pain until now. She was crying because her mother was in pain and sick.
But she was also crying because she saw her mother in way that she had never seen her before. My grandmother had become the weak one and my mother was made to become the strong one. The tables were turning for her much as they are for me now. I think I could count how many time I have seen my father cry on one hand. He is always stoic in front of his children. In my mind my father is perfect.
He always has answers and solutions. He is gentle and kind and always knows what to say to make things seem a little better. Watching him lay his head on the side of my mother’s bed and cry was a very surreal experience. He had no solutions to the problem at hand. He was lost and scared. He knew this time he couldn’t fix it.
I came to see my father in a new light. He is still the strong leader in my family but he is also a normal very emotional human being. My life has certainly changed in the past couple of weeks. For better or worse, I have yet to decide. I do know this; my position in this family will never be the same. The torch has been passed and I’m the one running with it..
