The Job I Loved I Can No Longer Have

Photo credits: Facebook

My Mom used to tell me to find a job that I love. But, unfortunately, I have not found a job where I will be happy, content, and fulfilled. It could be because a job isn't where we find all three, but in life itself.

In my last job, I learned that it was to prepare myself to go on living.

Today, I have a new job. I write every day. The stories come primarily from what I remember in the last 52 years of my life and of the lessons I learned along the way.

But for the most part, my writing journey is a result of my previous job, a job I can no longer have, and all because my Mom is no longer here.

She died seven months ago.

I was my Mom's caregiver ever since my Mom was diagnosed with Chronic Kidney Disease (CKD), a complication of her diabetes. After that, she had to undergo dialysis for seven years. However, it is my sister who lived with her, and I was only her constant companion during her hospital visits.

The last seven years were not all that perfect. None of our lives will ever be, nor are the memories of what we do, of what we choose, or of what we say. Not everything from our past will be pleasant to remember.

But when the time came that my Mom was on her deathbed, I realized that my caregiving job has come to an end. It was a job that I never really understood until my Mom breathed her last.

Not everyone is called to be a caregiver, and one can only look back at the journey once it is over.

You have either been a caregiver,

You are a caregiver,

You will be a caregiver,

Or someone will care for you.

- Rosalyn Carter, US First Lady

Caregiving isn't all about being selfless that caregivers often hear from well-meaning people. And when my Mom died, all the lessons I learned from being a caregiver were all mine.

My Mom was my first teacher, like every other Mom. Motherhood comes naturally; it isn't a job, but it takes more than eight hours to do it, day in and day out. The truth is, it is a 24/7 job, and it never ends until your very last breath.

And it never stopped even when you are sick, or dying, just like how she was when she gave us her final lessons as a mom.

On the day she died, her last words were;

I love you.

In the end, she taught me to love and to forgive.

Only when I did finally learn the lessons did Mom can bid us goodbye. It was as if her job is done and that she can finally come home to where her body will heal, where her spirit will be reborn.

Her death was co-created with God, she didn't die alone in the hospital from the virus that would have separated us from her, but she died at home.

Until her very end, my Mom was selfless.

It only dawned on me that we have to be her caregivers for seven years, even when her body has become weak and her body is in constant pain because she has to sacrifice herself until we are all back to being a family again.

I still miss our trips to the dialysis center, where we would have to spend hours together because even if we are not OK, it was the only time I can show love through actions, not words.

It is a job that made me a better person, and it is a job I can no longer have.

I wake up every day excited about where my stories will come from, and I know that my writer's voice is a gift, but it is a gift I had to wait to receive.

And while I miss my Mom each day, I know she co-writes with me, my words are her words too, and finally, I have a job now that I love; with her death comes a new beginning.

"… and as the phoenix rises above its ashes."

Today, more than one in five Americans (21.3 percent) are caregivers, having provided care to an adult or child with special needs at some time in the past 12 months. This totals an estimated 53.0 million adults in the United States, up from the estimated 43.5 million caregivers in 2015. - https://www.aarp.org/