“How far you go in life depends on your being tender with the young, compassionate with the aged, sympathetic with the striving and tolerant of the weak and strong. Because someday in your life you will have been all of these.”

—  George Washington Carver

My mother always taught me that what goes around comes around.  She taught it in words and in deeds.  I don’t think the word, “karma” was part of her vocabulary; but if it had been, she probably would have taught us about that, too.  Mom wore many hats in our family.  She was the undisputed smart person and Scrabble champion whose love of learning and especially words infected us all with a desire to read and learn and expand our worlds.  She could open a Calculus book, cold, after years had passed and still explain how to solve a problem.  She kept us fed and clothed and somewhat organized in spite the best efforts of her four children to undo her plans.  She played the piano after dinner so that we could all gather around it and sing show tunes — our own sort of Glee club.  But most of all, she looked after our Dad.  She was his right hand and office manager in the business they ran, she stretched the budget to make ends meet, she waited long hours while he golfed and played cards with his friends, and she loved him without reservation.  There was nothing on earth that equaled the way Mom’s eyes lit up when she was headed out on a date with her man.

Mom also looked out for her aunt, Essie, who had raised her as a child.  We watched throughout our childhood as Mom quietly served and listened to and loved her substitute mother.  We saw the way she would patiently listen to the same stories again and again as though they were new each time.  We saw how she translated her love into actions; and by imitating her, we learned the good feeling that comes from loving without expectation of getting something in return.

Mom taught us that what goes around comes around.  It has now been six years since my mother’s descent into dementia.  She has good days and not so good ones.  Her Math skills now consist of doing Sudoku puzzles and counting to twenty, but the puzzles are beginning to lose their appeal.  Her love of language has disappeared along with her nouns, and when we talk to her it is a challenge to figure out what she refers to with her verbs and adjectives.  She no longer cares for Dad.  It is now his turn to think for his wife and be her right hand man.  He lays out her clothes as she did for us when we were children and encourages her to put on her pants and then her shirt.  He reminds her to get ready for meals just as she once managed his schedule and made sure he was on time.  He tolerates her bad days and looks beyond them to the kind and loving woman who lies beneath the surface — just as she tolerated and forgave all of us as we fumbled and stumbled through growing up.  The days are a lather, rinse, repeat series of sameness; and just last week I was talking with Dad about how his patience with Mom reminds me of hers with Essie when we were all together so many years ago.

What goes around does come around.  Remember as you meet all the people you have the opportunity to love that at one time you either have walked or will walk in their shoes.  My mother taught me to do my best to be kind and patient and loving.  Now it is her turn, and it is a joyous thing to meet her needs.  What goes around has come around.