The ties that bind

A friend of mine has been sharing via Facebook her experiences with her mom as her mother endures the final stages of bladder cancer.

As my friend catalogued a list of memories that flooded over her while sitting with her mother in the hospital, she wound up thinking about a time only a couple of weeks ago before the illness worsened, when she took her mother to get some groceries on a recent frigid evening. They got separated in the store, and she looked for her mom by walking aisle by aisle, just the way she used to when she was a little girl and her mom would let her look at magazines while she shopped.

My friend seemed surprised to relive that memory after so many years.

Naturally I thought of the times in my own childhood when I'd look for my parents aisle by aisle in a store, and how my panic would grow with each row I'd pass without seeing them.

Even if I stretched it as a teenager and have neglected it as I've become a mom, the connectivity between my parents and me perseveres.

Now that I have kids of my own, though, I experience it from both sides. Last Mother's Day my husband and I took the boys to Orlando. The entire time we were there, my whole purpose in life was to keep the five of us together as we navigated the theme parks. Of course, Walt Disney World and Seaworld were jam-packed with families, and I devoted all my energy to keeping a hold on that invisible rope that linked my kids and my husband to me. At nearly every transition, Tim and I would even say aloud to each other, "I've got Owen." or "Is Henry here?"

As long as we all were together, everything was fine.

Sometimes the twins would ride a huge coaster without us, but I always felt such relief when I'd see them ambling toward us afterward. It was the same relief I'd feel as a kid when I'd see my parents in the grocery aisle.

It was love.