Thursday, November 05, 2009
Sometimes It's Hard
A couple of posts back I was whining (as I am wont to do) about the cold after coming back to Montreal from the warm sunny California desert. I'm very much the broken record (for those of you who remember that particular prehistoric product) in that regard. Always and forever.
In the comments, XUP asked why, if the cold was that bad for me, I didn't go live in the heat?"
And I had to stop and wonder. Why not indeed? As she pointed out, jobs can be found.
Unfortunately it's not that simple. Jobs can indeed be found, but getting a green card to work legally in the US is not so easy. Being someone's illegal alien maid or waitress? Not so much.
And, despite my whining about the weather, I do love Montreal. Unlike lots of cities, and most US cities I've been to, there's always something going on. There's animation, there's life, it's a great place to live. Now if only we could transport the whole city to the middle of the desert...
And then there's that other thing. That thing that means there is no way you can leave. That one thing that makes it impossible... Aging parents. That particular issue was brought home to us with a bang this week when Mr. Jazz's elderly aunt who lives downstairs began having serious issues. My own mother, who lives in another city has health issues (thankfully, my sister lives near her) and Mr. Jazz's own mom is getting on in years.
Moving to the desert sun is simply not an option. Because what do you do? Leave them on their own? No. We couldn't.
I find it very bizarre to be in this position. How can it be that all of a sudden we're caretakers for the people who have always been our rocks? These people who have always been there for us, who have always been so strong? We find ourselves watching those rocks crumble and it's very disconcerting, to say the least.
Finding help, finding a place for her where she'll be safe, knowing all the while she'll be angry that we're doing this, that she'll most likely consider we're ganging up on her, it's heartbreaking. And knowing we have no choice because she has become a danger to herself... it's heartbreaking. It's all heartbreak.
And I can't help but wonder what we'll do when our turn comes. Will we have the gumption - as my mom did - to move to a place of our choice before things become serious? I hope so. Especially as we have no kids to take care of us (not that that's any guarantee, or that I'd ask that of my kids anyway).
My mortality has been brutally shoved into my face. And I don't like it one bit.
Concocted by Jazz