Karma

I am the youngest of three—also known as the wild one. My teenage years were full of rebellion, especially against anything my mother told me to do (or not do).

Now my husband teases me that it’s karma. The one who was least likely to be the responsible one—the one taking care of my parents—is now in charge.

I keep telling him it isn’t karma if I volunteered…right?

I’ve always been a free spirit. I love to travel, to go, go, go. And now, I’ve put my life on hold—living in a fifth wheel behind my parents’ home—wondering how long this season will last.

After Mom’s hospital stay, she decided she wanted to go to South Dakota with me so I could help with her care and she could be treated at a great cancer center near my home. Okay, great—we had a plan.

Dad was only on board because, at that point, he would do whatever she wanted.

I found a wonderful assisted living facility just down the road from my house and got them on the waitlist. We focused on getting them both established with new healthcare providers.

It was working…until it wasn’t.

In January, after lots of tests, we learned Mom’s cancer was very aggressive. Treatment would be far too hard on her. She made the decision to forgo treatment and instead receive hospice care. At home. In Colorado.

Dad was relieved. He loved his home, and he missed it.

Everything started moving quickly—too quickly to even think about the long-term. As far as we understood, Mom would be passing soon, and we needed to be prepared.

But here we are, four months later. Mom is still doing pretty well, all things considered. And me?

I’m sitting with a thought I’m almost afraid to say out loud: When will I get my life back?

Maybe this is the real karma—not punishment, but perspective. A slowing down I never would have chosen. A season that asks more of me than I ever thought I had to give.

And somewhere in the middle of the waiting, the wondering, and the weariness…the quiet understanding that this time, hard as it is, matters more than anything I’ve put on hold. 

Maybe it’s not about getting my life back at all.

Maybe it’s about recognizing that this is my life right now—messy, heavy, unexpected… and deeply meaningful.

And one day, when this season is over, I won’t remember everything I missed—I’ll remember that I showed up.