I owe Amira an apology and I think I’m giving it here. She’s worried about me, my shoulder, my inability to stop trying to do everything and anything. I’m supposed to be waiting for my surgery and not do further damage. For the most part, to be honest, I’m really doing that (or at least trying)…though she won’t agree.
I was told by the doctors early on – that I should use my shoulder and my arm – of course, they told me this when they didn’t know that I had a torn rotator cuff that required surgery but even with that, I have to keep moving it. But I don’t have to do more than normal or even what is normal and Amira keeps trying to prevent me from hurting myself.
And I keep pushing myself and frustrating her because while she is trying to help me, I go off in a different direction and do something else. She take something that I’m doing, and I go do something else. Described like this, I do sound like a child. I don’t even know what it is in me that is making me do this but there I go again.
She has spent days at my house doing dishes, straightening up, washing, getting the others to help. She has her own family, home, life, and she keeps coming to help me…despite everything going on in her life. And on top of all of that, she keeps having to fight me.
Well, yesterday, I did it again – and she kept doing while fighting me all the way and somewhere along the way, I really did realize that I had pushed myself too hard. I’m not used to the concept of “too hard” – I have been lucky in life in that somehow, someway, almost everything is attainable with enough effort. Theodore Herzl once said, “if you will it, it is no dream.” The upshot of that concept is that you can make anything happen. The impossible becomes possible if you think it all through.
I grew up with the concept that everything will be done before the
Last night, her husband Haim came out to give me the car keys and accomplished more in a few minutes than Amira has accomplished in weeks. Haim is amazing on so many levels, even more so because he doesn’t yet realize how amazing he is. I knew he was special long ago. Last night, he told me that Amira was crying over how I keep pushing myself and she doesn’t know what to do to stop me.
And somehow, that was enough – I’ve made my daughter cry and for that I am sorry.
Parents have such a burden (but a wonderful one) and such a responsibility. And too often, the relationship flips around and the child becomes a parent. As we get older, that seems to happen more. Where once I did for my children; now they often do for me. I have to call Davidi over to put pots and plates on the top shelves of the cabinets; my children are often driving me places, and now, Amira is putting sense into me.