I woke up today in a funk. I was a bit surprised by the melancholy, as it was my birthday weekend and I received so much love, kind well wishes and shared equally as much laughter with friends throughout the days. So waking up in a place of anything but gratitude gave me pause.

To be fair, I rarely give myself permission to spend much time in a universe of half empty as opposed to half full. So giving myself permission for a morning to reflect and process why I got there was, I believed, as healthy a response as I could manage.

After a morning of reflection, I found to wax the philosophical on how I got into my funk, the justification for the wrongs and the whys that led me down the path, are irrelevant. I am not espousing a callousness to reason or a denial of permission to just be angry, or sad. But I realized that it is a part of the human condition to wonder, to expect more and to challenge what we could have done to make something different. To ask the why and ponder the purpose of the circumstances of disappointments.

The myriad of blessing that we experience are always counter balanced by our challenges, our disappointments and our personal failures. It is the quintessential stereotype, the ying and the yang. How would a blessing be appreciated if a loss were not our backdrop? We can’t experience a high without ever knowing a low. Otherwise there is no perspective.

Looking for a break from the mental gymnastics and trying to create a release, I decided to drive down to pick up my mom and bring her home for an early lunch and to watch some football on TV together. My mother often makes me laugh and smile and brings perspective to my day. However, on this day, reason may have been on vacation with that choice for distraction!

Time with mom turned into the culmination of a really bad morning, or more accurately, a shit show. Mom was happy to see me and grateful to be with me at the house. But as if she was tuned into my energy, she started to get more anxious and insistent as the hours wore on. She asked where my Dad was, where we were, was I married, what place were we in, did her husband know where she was, why was she here, who was I and on and on and on.

I could feel my patience being stretched and I was angry at myself for created a situation I could not control to make me feel better. It is always a crap shoot when I spend time with my mother, as she can be trying one day and a joy the next. Her brain has no capacity to know how to choose the difference. But I was angry at myself for looking for comfort in spending time with my mom. I knew a habit of a lifetime, to call or spend time with my mother, could no longer be depended upon. I was disappointed in myself that I was losing patience when it was an outcome that should have been expected.

So after lunch I gathered her up and off we went to drive back to her care home. I planned a stop along the way to buy her a milk shake to make up for the anxiousness of her morning. As we sat in the drive though, waiting for her order, I started to cry. I guess we finally do when we hit the tipping point.

Mine was brought on from the realization that in my darkest hours, no matter what I do, I will never get back the mother on whom I could rely, to make everything OK. I will never have her wisdom, her cheerful advice or her understanding. I was once again reminded that the tables have turned and for the rest of my life our roles are irrevocable reversed.

I turned my head away from my mother as we sat in my truck in the drive through line, as I did not want her to be upset by seeing me in distress. As tears streamed down my face I heard my mother ask, “Do I have any lipstick on?” I turned to look over at her and saw she was intently peering into the passenger side mirror. I answered, “No mom you don’t, but we can put some on when we get back to your house.” Mom continued to stare into the mirror, then touched the short bob haircut on her head, turned to me and suddenly exclaimed “Look at me!” she said with a look of disgust,”I look like a MAN!”

I laughed so hard that she turned from sour to sunny and joined in with me. After we stopped she said with a questioning look, “Well I guess I will have to stay this way for awhile?” I assured her that her lipstick was waiting for her in her bedroom back at her house. I paid for the milk shake, handed it to mom, she took a sip, looked at me and, as she does every single time I buy her one, said “This is the best thing I have ever had!”

And I realized that maybe, those tables haven’t been turned at all. But that now each of us are just sitting in a different seat. The view does look different, but gratefully, my mom can still make me laugh and feel better, even in my darkest hours.