My Dear Lola

I dropped my class yesterday.

Oh, how I am in love with learning.

I yearn to grow in knowledge.

My philosophy class sparked my mind.

Many inquires arise.

Yet, a different love holds me behind.

My Lola.

A woman who cannot fight for herself any longer.

Cancer, Dementia, Diabetes, Anemia…

We looked at homes.

None had intentional care such as I.

I look around and see neglect and a lack of love, “There is no way I’m letting my dear Lola be “taken care of” here”

She proclaims— “I want to live”

Food is her worst enemy.

Her forgetful mind runs her dry of nutrition.

My Dear Lola:

Reluctant, notices anything “out of place” and here comes a storm. Sarcasm, Snides, and Comments of her frustrations, towards me.

I am not the problem. The factor— loss of independence.

I fill that loss.

I feel like a punching bag. Each hit filled with words of dismay.

Some days I can only see the bad.

This lack of gratitude makes me want to quit, leave, lash out.

A woman with dementia — a lack of understanding. Expected, yet painful.

This. Here. Makes me not want to have kids. I’m tired of trying to help someone live.

My cup runs dry. Every drop she bears the sweet nectar of my life.

But I press on, holding on to love before.