Meet Me Where I Am

I wet my bed, after months of gold stars on my chart. At four years old, this is my way of telling you I’m afraid of the dark. I’m not at home; I’m visiting fear. Don’t scream at me. For now, forget my past progress; forgive this accident. Please meet me where I am.

I didn’t call home, despite your request. I was talking with my school buddies about important things. I’m not at home; I’m visiting independence. Don’t get angry. For now, forget my past obedience; forgive my choice today. Please meet me where I am.

I forgot your birthday. Changing diapers drains me. I’m not at home; I’m visiting parenthood. Don’t feel unloved. For now, forget my usual attentiveness; forgive my lapse. Please meet me where I am.

I didn’t look happy when you shared your good news. My friend died last week. I’m not at home; I’m visiting grief. Don’t conclude I don’t care. For now, forget my past compassion; forgive my self-absorption. Please meet me where I am.

I pushed you away when you tried to help. I’m flailing as my faculties fail me. I’m leaving home and moving through dementia. Don’t think I don’t need you. For now, forget my past patience; forgive my belligerence. Please meet me where I am.

I no longer thank you, for I no longer speak. Don't abandon me before I leave forever. Please meet me where I am.

Wendy S. Harpham, MD

Comments

[Holly]

I really, truly, absolutely love this.

[Pat O]

What a powerful and moving post!

[B]

Thank you for sharing. I really connected with these words.

[Jan Baird Hasak]

Beautiful and powerful.

[Lisa K Millsap]

Lovely...