Thanksgiving night. My mom is heading out soon. She has taken a turn for the worse over the last week. I've been with her a lot. This may a be graphic as far as death and dying go, so read ahead if you'd like. She's so tiny now. Thin as a rail, something she might have said, and it's exactly true. I can encircle her upper arm with my hand, thumb to middle finger. She doesn't eat now. Well, actually she had a bit of food yesterday. She had a cup of Dairy Queen vanilla ice cream for lunch(Jay and I stopped and had a lunch of hot fudge sundaes there ourselves and got a cup to go for her) and then for supper she had the filling part of two pieces of pumpkin pie. Her body is tight and stiffening. Hospice is good and the caregivers at The Peaks have been wonderful. A couple nights ago I laid down with her and snuggled her up. I just talked to her about how much we all love her, and how I think it will be like getting on a boat...that I'm here, seeing her off at the dock, and my dad will be there at the other end, waiting for her to arrive and go on to the next adventure. I don't know how it will be but I like to think of it that way. I told her she can go, and to enjoy the boat ride. I love being with her. I still can't imagine not being able to touch her face or her hair, or to hold her hand. She still has the tightest grip ever. She's just holding on for all she's worth. She stays horizontal now mostly. Occasionally, over the last few days, she's looked into my eyes, focused for a few seconds and then her eyes drift up above my head and she focuses again, at something above me. I like to think she's seeing into that other world. Tonight, before I left her, she was in bed and her arms, small and skinny as they are now, were held up in the air in a perfect hug. I said, who are you hugging missy? and she smiled for a brief flash of a second. I walked down the hall to talk to one of the caregivers and when I came back in her room, she still had those arms wrapped around someone. I sat next to her on her bed for a while and put her arms down, one by her side and one around that baby she loves to hold, kissed her, said I love you, and headed home to wait for tomorrow.
Life is a great sunrise. I do not see why death should not
be an even greater one.
--Vladimir Nobokov
3 comments:
you brought back good memories of time I spent with my father before he passed....thanks. May your mom's journey be peaceful. TH
I can't stop bawling thinking about your sweet mother. I used to work with the elderly and I view them as valiant warriors, who fought such a good fight and did so much good, and then they pass the torch. Some of them have purple hearts. I don't know you mother, but I bet she does. I can tell by the way you love her and talk about her. What a beautiful analogy of the boat. I love that. I hope her journey is peaceful, and I hope that you are comforted, because even if it is good for her, it must be so hard for you to say goodbye. My thoughts and prayers are with you and her.
Oh Jill. Your post made me cry. I know exactly what you're going through and you are so much stronger than I was, three months ago. I love that you are able to have this time with her and to be there until the end. What a wonderful journey. My prayers and thoughts are with you and your family now. It's so hard to say goodbye, even when you expect it. Love to you.
jenny
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