Selfish is as selfish does

Three shades of hair

We made the scene in Appleton Sunday afternoon for mother-in-law's 90th birthday. There were never more than six of us, eating carrots and celery sticks, with, generally, more gaps than talk. Mother-in-law herself said almost nothing. We left the house and went to dinner at -- and now I forget the name of it, but it was good.

Had a better time at the hotel with brother-in-law and sister-in-law, where much talk of parents, which are a kind of epidemic.

My mom calls me most days lately, in the early afternoon, saying "I'm in my room now," or "I'm back in my room." She wants me to come over, and to bring my sisters, and asks in so many ways, "Where is everybody?" Like, why aren't they here?

I say I can't come now, and my sisters don't live here, and I feel deeply conflicted. I want to rush to her side, and at the same time, I am quietly fuming at her selfishness. It's not fair, I know. It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair. She's sick, and she's old, and her dementia visits more and more often.

She was always, I think, when it comes to her children, selfish. She would pout when we would go to visit  her -- when she was in good health -- when we would have to say we would have to be leaving a couple hours earlier than we'd planned because a blizzard was on its way. It would cost her an hour, or two, of our presence, and it would ruin the whole visit for her -- every minute of every day that we'd been there. She would rather us risk the blizzard with two young children than deprive her of 60 minutes of our presence.

I wonder if, when you're pressed to the edge like she is now, you don't actually become more of what you were -- your whole self distilled to its essence. She doesn't think as well as she did most of her life, true. She doesn't remember or talk as well, true. But the need inside her -- the what she wants -- is purer, brighter and more intense than it was ever was.

Selfish? Probably it runs in the family.