My mother has always loved Englebert. I took her two years ago and she absolutely loved every minute of the concert. Driving home after the concert, the entire evening was (of course) forgotten. Alzheimer’s robs people not only of their memories but of the joy they feel “in the moment”. That joy is non-existent once the moment has passed… But it didn’t matter because I had incredible memories of her, in that evening. The “I” is important in the case of this story, and it’s plot twist.
Five months ago, I heard that Englebert was coming back to Montreal inNovember, so I promptly bought tickets.
My mother and I would go, as we had in the past, even though it was difficult two years ago also, but we would go, we would sing and laugh and enjoy the 120 minutes, the 120 moments, together. SHE would love it.
As the date of the October 31st concert neared, I found myself feeling nervous about the event. Foreseeing everything that could go wrong. The reality that my mother can no longer get in and out of a car by herself; that she cannot stand from a seated position on her own, that she can truly not walk more than a few steps (with a walker), all of that reality came rushing towards me, on the day of the concert. The day before the planned event, I ordered an Uber, I reserved a wheelchair, everything I could think of to make the night possible, and do-able. However that night, I couldn’t sleep. I realized that what I was doing was too much, on my own. I was risking her, or I, getting hurt.
Flashback to a week before: dinner with family and friends. Talking about my upcoming plans with my mom and how excited “I” was. (Remember I said the “I” was important). So my close family member says to me “that’s a big undertaking … I think you’re doing it more for *you* than for your mom”. Well – I thought that was utterly ridiculous. I’m not the one that loves Englebert (sorry but it’s true). I was OBVIOUSLY doing it for my mother. To make her happy. What a ridiculous thought that I was doing it for myself…
But that ridiculous thought stayed with me. I kept thinking about it for the next week.
Until October 31st when I realized they were right.
I so wanted to take my mother to this concert again, so that “I” could feel her still “alive”. So that “I” could enjoy this time with her. So that “I” wouldn’t have to accept her incapacity. So that “I” could still have a mom that I could do things with.
Like I said, on October 31st, the reality of it all came rushing towards me.
This was not meant to be. My mother would be just as happy if I went to her place of residence, and put on Englebert on YouTube and watched and sang with her. The event I wanted to have happen, was for me. It was a form of denial. It was a way of not accepting the reality that simply *is*.
In that moment, on the day of the event, I put out a notice on social media to sell or give the tickets away.
I wanted someone to enjoy the show.
A few hours later, I get a message on Facebook from a yoga client of mine that is 25 years old!
She asks me if the tickets are sold yet and when I tell her that they are not, she says to me
“oooooh I LOVE Englebert and so does my MOM“.
In that instant, I knew who was going to the concert. My heart was immediately full ♥
I knew that this mother-daughter duo was MEANT to go to this concert.
THESE tickets were destined for A. and her mom!
They went. They loved the show. And I know in my heart that I made the right decision and that things worked out exactly as they should have.