an impossible decision…

Quotes about Decision and love (120 quotes)

The moving truck has already come and gone. By now, they should have reached their destination outside of a suburb in a large metropolitan Texas city. They will have already begun unpacking boxes and assessing the situation.  Having shoved various items haphazardly together, she is probably wondering if it will even be worth the time to unpack everything, or if they should simply choose the bare essentials. 

It was a last-minute decision.  Even down to the day the truck was scheduled to arrive, they still hadn’t fully committed to going back.  The worry was not in asking their renters to move on such short notice, as they found themselves with an impossible decision and needed a landing place if they were to move back. After all, even up until the very last moment, the situation of whether they could rent their home out or not would be the least of their concerns. If they chose not to go back, they could always find new renters.

It was leaving here that would be the difficult decision.

She would be leaving a piece of her heart behind.

I have spoken to her several times over the nine months.  She has been carefully weighing her options and waiting.  Maybe somewhere in the dark recesses of her mind she was hoping that the situation would not be as grim as it slowly came to be.

When the final diagnosis was given, the reality that something would have to be done came to the forefront of her mind.

Her mother was dying from ALS.

She tried to look for signs, something that would push her in one direction or another.  She called me, asking if we had a home available. 

We do not.

She asked if it would be easy to care for her mother in a home that is not her own, and because of that, would making changes to the floorplan even be an option.

It was not.

When her husband was laid off from his job, and her employer demanded she work remotely, she took it as the final sign.  They would move back to Texas to care for her mother.  Between a world-wide Pandemic, and the uncertainty in her husband’s employment in a small North Idaho town, it seemed maybe this would be the best decision.

But was it?

Her teenage son is navigating his senior year during a time of stress and precariousness in every possible way. He wants to attend school, because online learning is hurting his GPA, and he misses the social interaction with his peers.  He is even willing to wear a mask all day, every day, if it means he can enjoy this last year of school.

He has lived in this small town for eight years.  Long enough to fit in, and to belong, and long enough to have created life-long friendships.

If he left now, what would that mean for him?

The rights of passage for every young adult leaving behind their childhood is meant to be fun.  Some would say this will be the best years of his life.  However, the prospect of ending his final year of high school with such finality is detrimental for both he and his parents.

It is doubtful this year will hold treasured pep rallies, fundraisers, or lectures of the dangers of drugs or drinking, that most teenagers scoff at or roll their eyes at, yet every adult hopes they take to heart. Nor will there be the customary dances such as homecoming, or even prom. Besides the previous year’s graduates, it is doubtful his final year of high school will compare to any of those students who come after his class.  These graduating students will have missed out on all the lasts of their high school experiences.

So when his mother made the announcement that they were going to have to move back to Texas to help care for grandma, you can imagine the heartbreak and intense feelings of desperation he must have been experiencing.

He was already navigating a world of loss.

Now his family was asking him to sacrifice even more.  To leave his high school sweetheart, friends and his first job. To leave the comfort and beauty of their small town and return to the hot, dry and busyness of city life once again.

He hadn’t cared for it as a child, and he knew he wouldn’t care for it now. And he was determined not to go back.

His mother was now forced to make the most impossible choice.

She chose to leave without him.

The decision to let him stay was not easy, and she second guessed it even after that moving truck was pulling out of the driveway. All she can do now is trust that she raised him right, and that he would carry the weight of this new responsibility as well as possible.  She prayed and prayed some more. There was no easy option.  Then again, ALS is never easy.

It would be too difficult to move her mother up here.  They would have to find new doctors, and potentially buy another home during a risky economy and unknown futures.  While I tried to assure her that we have an excellent care team, support groups and incredibly caring families that can help pitch in when the difficult parts were upon them, there was another dilemma that had to be addressed. A stepfather who is also sick and will need care and possibly chemotherapy.  It was too much to ask them both to move over a thousand miles in the conditions they are in, and one would not leave the other behind.

This woman made the only choice she knew to do.

She chose to leave a piece of her heart behind, with the hope that he will be happy, and to experience what little of a senior year he could.  She chose to uproot her entire life to travel to another part of the country to care for the other piece of her heart. 

The guilt either way will wear heavy on her.

With no family to ask to watch over her son, she is relying on church members to check on him from time to time.  Her newly eighteen year old son is being thrown into adulthood, and she has now become the caregiver to her mother who has already lost her speech, and ability to move more than a few steps.

She made the most heart wrenching of choices to leave her child behind and to launch herself into the new found role of being a full-time caregiver, praying she has the strength to watch her mother slowly deteriorate in front of her.  The worry and stress will be compounded as she is faced with the disease and what it steals. Instead of worrying from a distance, it will become all too real. And she will now have the added worry of all the things that could go wrong while she is so far away, with little support for her son and trusting in others to help watch over him. 

There is no right or wrong way to handle this. There is no easy way out.  All they can do is rely on each other to get through what they each need to get through on this journey, and hope to come back together in the end, stronger than ever.

Like I said….an impossible decision.

A letter to my daughter…

A Letter to My Daughter;

The time has come.

I must admit, knowing for years that this moment would be upon me, I was still caught off guard. I had no idea the multitude of emotions I was going to feel, seeing you sit among your classmates, in your cap and gown, as the speaker announced the Class of 2019. As your hand reached up to move the tassel from the right side over to the left, signifying the completion of your high school career, the tears began pouring from my eyes.

I suppose it may seem silly to some, but I wasn’t ready. I’m still not ready for my job as your mother to be over. I have no idea how to move forward as a mother to a young woman. So please forgive me, as I am sure I will stumble along the way. I have had you all to myself for eighteen years. And I want more time. I am not ready for this to be over.

I will never forget the moment those two pink lines appeared, signaling the changes that would soon begin in my body. I will never forget the first time I felt the little flutter of kicks as you began making your presence known. As the months went by, and I was more than ready to have the heaviness of carrying you inside of me over, I would learn so much about your personality, and you weren’t even born yet!

You were ten days overdue. Even then, you were stubborn as hell. I should have learned in that moment, the extent of your stubbornness. There was nothing anyone could do to make you do anything you didn’t want to. It wasn’t until we were both exhausted, and our heartbeats and blood pressure were dropping, the risk too great to both of us, that the doctors in the room decided to take action. After 18 hours of intense labor, you had to be dragged, kicking and screaming into this world.

As the months went by, you taught me how to be a mother. I must admit, I was probably more nervous with you than I was with your sister and brother. I read every book on what to expect, through each month or stage along the way and which milestones you should be hitting and when. You were a great napper but would only sleep through the night if you were walked and sung to. I was sleep deprived for years, but I loved every minute of it!

And true to your personality, you did things when you were good and ready. You were independent from the beginning. Never fearing the strangers around you, or being out of my line of sight, you were off on your own adventures. You waved goodbye on your first day of daycare, with no tears or drama. I doubt you knew I went to my car and cried like a baby, seeing your two-year old self walk into that room of strangers, with out a care in the world.

I remember your first days of preschool, and kindergarten. Your first temper tantrum. WOW! Over and over again, you showed me your fierceness and independence. You never wanted to fit in, nor try to morph into those around you. And you have always excelled at voicing your displeasure at things that do not go your way.

Maybe that is why it comes as no surprise that you were anxiously wanting to grow up and get on with your life. School was never your thing, nor were clubs or sports, or group activities. You preferred beating a drum all your own.

I was the hardest on you. I am sorry about that. I suppose because you remind me so much of myself. I want you to be so much more than I ever was, and I definitely pushed you. You, of course, pushed back.

I watched you walk down that aisle yesterday, that beautiful smile across your face, as you looked at me and said, “I did it, Mama!” and my heart ached once again. Another symbol that my job is over. This is it. I don’t get a do-over, or more time. You are off to begin your new life.

I probably embarrassed you after the ceremony when I grabbed you and began sobbing, my head tucked into the crook of your neck. You are now as tall as I am, and more beautiful than I ever could have imagined.

I will feel this heartache for a while, I suppose. It seems incredible that these years have flown by so quickly, and my role is now changed. I wasn’t ready. I am not sure if I ever will be. My heart is breaking into a million pieces, but I expect this is the same feeling the countless mothers experience throughout their lives.

You taught me how to be a mother. I can never thank you enough for that. It has been the most difficult journey of my life, and the most beautiful and rewarding. I am immensely proud of the woman you are growing into, and I hope that throughout the years, you will hold that independence and strength inside of you. As you struggle, and experience roadblocks and failures along the way, I hope you know you can always lean on me for strength. I will always be here, cheering you on.

I know that I was not perfect, but I hope you know how much you are loved, and I tried to show you how much I loved you as often as I could. I never cared whether you were the smartest or the most athletic, nor the most popular or the most beautiful. I have always been in awe of your ability to walk away from anything that does not serve you, including the need to please others. Your character traits will take you far in life, so hold on to them.
I am still on the journey of discovering who I am, and more than anything, I wish you happiness. I hope you take the time to learn about who you are and the things that bring you joy. I hope you reach for the things in life that are important to you, no matter what the world whispers in your ear, look for what you are passionate about. I hope you choose kindness over judgement, and forgiveness over anger. There will be many times when that will be real struggle. Learn to let go of the things you cannot change and as I always say, “You have no control over others, you can only control how you respond.”

And above all, know that you are loved unconditionally and will always have a mother who will support you and love you, for exactly who you are.

It has been an honor being your mother, and I am excited to see what life has in store for you. You are and always will be, my baby girl.
Love Always,
Your Mama

❤️ Richelle Duffield
Matthew Wild

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