Receive
“Don’t ever buy me a cup of coffee again,” my brother Mike said as he took the paper Dunkin’ cup from my hand. I laughed. His response to my offer summed up so much about us:
I can take care of myself.
I don’t want to be beholden to you.
I don’t want to put you out.
Don’t spend money on me.
Coffee shops are a rip-off.
Chicagoans misplace objective pronouns.
Mike and I took our places beside my mother’s hospice bed at Mercy Circle on the Southside. As siblings in a big family, we often worked in pairs in January of 2023 to try to settle our mother as she suffered through allergic reactions to hospice meds.
She itched.
At one point, she howled, “Cut it off!” referring to her foot as she jabbed it up toward the ceiling. A fierce mother of ten, she now appeared as a paper-thin-skinned bag of bones at nearly 96. She looked fragile and weak, but she was strong in spirit, as evidenced by her clear, firm voice until her last week on Earth. She also kept her sense of humor. Praise God.
We lotioned, rubbed, combed, brushed, and jostled her in efforts to make her more comfortable. Stretches of silence were peppered with staccato screeches of “scratch my back,” and we’d jump to it. Four hands synced to soothe the terrible, mysterious irritation.
Michael is nine years older than me (note the incorrect pronoun), and everything about him seems from a much earlier era, including music. He looked at me and said, “There’s a song about that.”
“A song about what?” I asked.
“Scratching your back.”
No way, I thought and ignored him as I returned to memorizing every feature of my mother’s face.
Next thing I know, his phone is reverberating:
“I told ya,” he said. “Slim Harpo and mom got a lot in common.” (Chicagoans mess with verb conjugations.) I boogeyed a bit and watched my mom’s shoulders bob.
My mom chuckled. In the midst of suffering, the quirkiness of this amazing older brother brought such joy. Hilarious. I received his gift. My mom got it, too.
I’m learning to embrace the Grace, to receive. And I’ll accept the the cup of coffee.
Beautiful reflection, Nancy…♥️