Say my Name

It's not often I feel euphoric. Is that even a word? It's been a stressful and long week. I haven't been sleeping. I have no appetite. I'm overwhelmed and possibly numb.

But tonight. For the first time in a long time. There was a spark. A glimpse. One tiny rainbow. She said my name. Some sort of recognition. I was remembered. Known. 

Many people have told me in the past that I lack proper respect. That I don't follow the laws of kibbud av v'em. The concept has aggravated me for years. Most people don't even know the meaning of respect. Of honoring ones parents. Most people have never been through what I have been through. 

Earlier, I went to the hospital. I forced her into the shower. She was screaming and fighting me. That's when she yelled my name. I was so happy. It was the first time. And then once the hot water was hitting her body, she was so calm and peaceful. She was so grateful. I cleaned her and washed her hair. I shaved the side of her hair so her cochlears won't fall off. Then I dried her off, put a diaper and hospital gown on. I took her back to bed and tucked her in.

That is my definition of respect. That is my duty and job as her daughter. This is my life. My responsibility. You can't understand. You can't relate. You can't judge me. You have no idea. You don't even know the half of it.

This is reality.