So, my downstairs neighbors are assholes. Loud at 4am, slamming doors and vacuuming before dawn, screaming at each other and their kids. Dogs barking for hours on end. Loud enough that, through my floor, I know all of their drama. You know… Real salt of the earth types.

We are waiting for our house to be built, and I can’t wait to move away.

Anyway, so after this morning’s door slamming and yelling theatrics, it was 5:30am and I was laying in bed, thinking. Yes, I know that no good thoughts happen at this hour. Today was no exception.

I was doing my normal inventory of “what hurts today and what do I need to accomplish” when my brain decided that it was a good time to revisit the death of my mother.

The pertinent background that you should know is that she died of ALS many years ago. One of her feet had some trouble lifting and two years later she died in her recliner because her body just stopped working. My father found her, he asked me to take off her wedding rings so they didn’t get lost. Watching her waste away was the hardest thing I’ve ever endured.

That said, I would take the dizziness, aches, pains, gut distress, tachycardia and all of that forever to have her back. Just to be able to talk to her. It’s been over a decade and I still sometimes go for my phone to call her. But enough about this part.

What really strikes me from that time when I look past my own pain for something useful, (because that’s always what I try to do) is that she handled her body giving up on her with a ton of grace. Always kind, mostly positive considering her circumstances, and always genuinely grateful.

I remember once she was eating and dropped her spoon on the carpet. She was relegated to spending most of her time in the recliner because she wasn’t super mobile at that point. So I went to grab it, put it in the sink and get her a new one. I just remember her saying, “No no, it’s fine it just fell on the ground.”

My parents are not messy or dirty people. Quite the opposite actually. But in any case, we had clean spoons and I wasn’t gonna let her use a spoon that had been on the floor, ya know. She didn’t have much dignity left, being reliant on my dad to take her to the bathroom, bathe her, etc. like fuck, I can’t help that but at least take this clean spoon.

My uncle was there at the time and he told me when I left the room, she said that I took such good care of her. In the face of all of the shit she was going through, she was so fucking grateful for the bare minimum.

If I do anything with the significantly better hand that I’ve been dealt, I want it to be that. Handle life and its challenges with grace and gratitude.

I am getting there. Maybe I am taking the long route, but I am getting there.

Post-shower, chugging my morning coffee, it was an early start to the day, but.. at least it started.