About my Mom and Caregiving and her beautiful green-blue-gray eyes

This is about Caregiving – from my heart…

When we look into a baby’s eyes, we see color. We see big, glorious pools of color – blues, greens, browns, blacks. We see hues of a million shades, each genetically… no, magically gathered into those gloriously painted eyes. People always comment on a baby’s eye color, about how blue they are like the sky or the ocean, or how they’re green, just like emeralds, or deep brown, rich like the earth, or black with such depth and mystery.

It’s easy to see the color of a baby’s eyes because babies stare at us wide-eyed as we coo, giggle, laugh and play peek-a-boo with silly faces and reckless abandon… as they wait for us to sing, to make funny noises, to tell them stories that make their wide, masterfully painted eyes dance.

Eyes let us in on the secrets of life, of love.

Last night, I sat next to my Mom for hours at a local emergency room, where she had been admitted for a turn for the worse with a very bad injury on her leg… a fall, 3+ weeks ago, that left a deep gash with serious complications. In-between resting, talking with nurses, technicians and physicians, my Mom and I talked about all kinds of things. She didn’t have her glasses on, which gave me a clear view into her eyes… eyes that she has always said are hazel, like mine, but are really a green-blue-gray starburst-in-the-center masterpiece, each color peeking, emerging dependent upon the reflections of colors around her.

I stared into her eyes as we talked and I watched her eyes close as she dosed and awoke with each new noise or voice.

My Mom’s eyes.

My Mom’s beautiful green-blue-gray-starburst eyes that read to me each night when I was a child. The eyes that guided me to my first days of Kindergarten, helped me bake my first batch of peanut butter cookies and watched so carefully as I stirred the hot, hot baker’s chocolate in her old double boiler while making homemade fudge.

My Mom’s eyes.

My Mom’s eyes that guided our family car to swimming lessons, Brownies, my softball games, our town library… where each summer she helped me stick little colorful stickers on my caterpillar of each book read. Oh, how I loved filling those caterpillars!

My Mom’s eyes, filled with such strength through a river of tears when my Dad died, young and suddenly, and he was gone.

My Mom’s eyes… twinkling with happiness on my wedding day and the awe in her eyes on the days she greeted her grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

My Mom’s eyes… how I stared into them last night and saw so many moments of my life as her child, she as my giver of love, my giver of care.

I am now the Caregiver.

I know I can make my Mom laugh. I know I can make her eyes dance. I know I can make her eyes go wide with the complete inappropriateness of the things I say in secret when I’m just with people who know me very, very well. My Mom is never inappropriate. She is a Lady.

But I can make my Mom’s eyes wide with my quiet reckless abandon. It’s my peek-a-boo, my silly face substitution.

I did this last night in the ER.

I did this because I love my Mom’s dancing green-blue-gray-starburst eyes as she shushes me like I’m 8 years old.

This is part of my Caregiving from the heart.

This is my Lovegiving.

Maybe we should pay more attention to the eyes of our elderly. Know the colors. Make them dance!

When I look into my Mom’s gloriously painted eyes, I see stories, I see life, I see me, I see my children and grandchildren. I see the sky and ocean and emeralds and stars. I see Love. I see magic…

What color are your Mom’s eyes?

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As a Caregiver, I turn to AARP.org/Caregiving for questions I have in the care of my Mom -from daily care, housing options and legal advice to medical features, a Caregiving community and the important topic of caring for the caregiver.  Those of us who Caregive are not alone, even though it may sometimes seem so; and sometimes the best days turn in a heartbeat to the most challenging days.  AARP has provided us with a strong, vibrant community of experts for all of our Caregiving days, as well as those of us trying our best at common sense – with lots of welcomed help and advice.

I also turn to AARP.org for myself, for its front-line advocacy, information and service.

Sharon Couto is a member of AARP’s Blogger Kitchen Cabinet on #caregiving, #caresupport, #carekc issues. All opinions are her own.

 

About Audrey

Audrey McClelland has been a digital influencer since 2005. She’s a mom of 5 and shares tips on her three favorite things: parenting, fashion and beauty. She’s also a Contemporary Romance Author.

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10 Comments

  1. 10.4.13
    Rick said:

    Beautiful as always Sharon. My eyes – tears.

  2. 10.4.13
    Sharon said:

    Rick… thank you. I love you… xo

  3. 10.4.13
    Sheri said:

    Oh Sharon, what a beautiful post. I love it! xo

  4. 10.4.13

    Oh Sharon, beautifully written. I always enjoy reading your posts. You and your mom are blessed women.

  5. 10.5.13
    Kirsten said:

    I always save your stuff for last because it is so meaningful, so deep and so precious. (Just like you!)

    My favorite: “But I can make my Mom’s eyes wide with my quiet reckless abandon. It’s my peek-a-boo, my silly face substitution.”

    My mom has blue eyes.

  6. 10.5.13
    Dee said:

    I agree with Rick…tears. Love your Mom! Wishing beautiful Rita a very speedy recovery!!!

  7. 10.5.13
    admin said:

    Aww… mom, this is beautiful. I know these eyes you speak of… and they are beautiful. I love you! You did such an exceptional job with Grandma!

  8. 10.6.13
    Meg said:

    Sharon – this is beautiful … continued prayers for Rita’s recovery. What a beautiful post … And, I love your irreverent sense of humor that makes your mom’s eyes dance with wonder … She is certainly the lady. xoxo

  9. 10.6.13

    Such a beautiful post Sharon. Ill be thinking of your mom and sending healthy vibes her way.

  10. 10.8.13
    Morra said:

    Oh my goodness, what a beautiful post. The shift from child of to caregiver is so intense, and you capture the emotion and love so well. xx Morra

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