last rites

She said I did not have to do it.


But I could hardly imagine not doing it.


 The Hospice nurse that showed up at my door early Sunday afternoon was a new face, it being a Sunday and all. She was extremely welcomed because having someone in charge was important at that particular time to all of us.


 It would be the last time I would assist in cleaning my mother's body. The body that had carried me for nine months and  had given birth to me. The body that had grown old and could no longer function. The body that had died.


Now she has a new body. I smiled as I took an afternoon walk with the thought of her walking again, running even...a new body that is no longer sick or riddled with pain. And with a mind that functions perfectly.


(I ran across this several months back when reading about those who had sat with dying parents. It touched a part of my heart and says with a precious simplicity what my heart is feeling  right now.)

Gratitude for a precious relationship,

and sadness that it is over,

all combined with relief that frailty and pain are gone.

sea glass

 Rose loves to collect sea glass.  She spends hours combing the seashore amongst the shells seeking for the pieces of colored glass that have survived the rough turning of the ocean tides resulting in the metamorphosis of magical fragments of beauty. I like the thought of the glass I am presently walking on being like the smooth washed- up glass of the sea.

Every morning I wake up and before I even open my eyes I pray for grace and wisdom. Life goes on here even though for some it is inevitably shorter and harder, a struggle. The sharp edges of death are being pounded by something my visible eyes can not see. A metamorphosis taking place.

waiting

"I go to prepare a place for you..." John 14:2

She has had no food today. The little sip of water attempted choked her. But even without the pain meds there is no pain that we can sense, though there is a horrible sounding cough which acts up from time to time due to the congestion in her lungs. It causes us to wince. But other than that she rests quietly for the most part.

My sister and her husband came this afternoon from out of town. My husband, Charlotte, and I went out for lunch then on to a few random errands. I believe with all my heart my mother knew my sister was here even though there was no words to let us know that was true.

 I am wearing a path from her room.

We wait.

sweet and bitter

Something is different.

On Thursday Mother had a great day. She had her normal nap for the morning then she woke pleasant and remained so throughout the afternoon. The hospice aides showed up and were able to give her a thorough bath and wash her hair. Then the girls and I had fun "playing" beauty parlor rolling her hair with Charlotte's soft colorful rollers. We all laughed and it was a wonderful memory. We applied the hair dryer on low temperature and then combed out her soft gray tresses. She thought we were fixing her up to take her somewhere. She was so disappointed when that was not the case. We all were.

But for the past two days she has not truly slept, a doze at the best.  This is very unusual for my mother. Sleeping comes easy for her and her normal routine involves sleeping throughout the night with several naps during the day, sometimes even sleeping most of the day and only coming awake for a few select hours.

This morning as I checked on her I realized she is getting less and less responsive and she can not form sentences anymore. She garbles and once in a while she says a word that you understand that has nothing to do with anything. "Fuzzy".  "Important". Her eyes will close and open wide looking around.

I have seen similar behavior before in my father during his last days. It is the same but it is different for every person because individual personalities are still present. As I touched her face this morning, she winces thinking I had put something sharp to her head.

I long to crawl on bed beside her.

grace links

Now that mother is living with me here at my house she is surrounded by loud talking, the barking of a dog, constant conversation, giggles and laughter, the sound of the piano being played, all ages of people either coming in or leaving through the several doors throughout my house. She lives in the midst of school lessons, the girls squabbling with correction given, the voices of song and appreciations bestowed. She hears the familiar and poetic words of the Psalms as they are read to her by someone sitting in an armchair by her bedside.

Can I even begin to explain the depth of unexpected emotion that squeezed me tightly this afternoon?  I was spooning vanilla pudding from a cup into her partially opened mouth when Rose began playing "Amazing Grace" on the piano. I could have wept with the beauty of that simple moment. Many times I feel as if I can only manage baby steps in the fields of His grace, one small step in front of the other. But those times when the waves of His grace come washing over me it leaves me unabashedly soaring deep and wide.

" He will my shield and portion be...as long as life endures".

the long goodbye

Night had fallen even with it not being late by the clock's hour. Early darkness is the norm on these short days of December. Alan and I were on our way to visit with mother. Alan, being my most recent college graduate, used the words "the long goodbye" in referring to mother's illness. Today these words are reverberating in my mind just like a scratched record...the long goodbye, the long good bye, the long goodbye...

Because that certainly describes it perfectly.

 Especially the last five years have left us experiencing the loss of my mother with the reality of her physical presence sitting right in front of you. The time has seemed to stretch over a long period of time because the developments of the disease are agonizing as they advance with persistence. But with every visit I find myself wanting to tarry because I know with a surety that the final goodbye will come.

looking for color

Mint green walls, sun rays falling across a blue cotton pillowcase, and a fuzzy peach blanket- these provide blotches of color in my black and white world. 

Every single day this week has carried troubles unique on its own, yet there have been great joys too.

From sleeping all day, hallucinations, anxiety, confusion.

Looking for foods that he would eat and trying to give comfort in every possible way.
Administering medications, and yes agonizing over that too. My hands did not have to shake because my insides were shaking plenty.

I learn daily it is impossible in my own strength...yes, proven over and over.