My mother is dying. We are caught in an unforgiving place of waiting and watching. Hoping for glimpses of the women who taught us the meaning of self-less, unconditional love. We keep watch as her mind is taking her back to places in time; flashes and moments of a full life. A life filled with plans, activities, experiences, surrounded by family and friends. She is fighting hard to hold on to the life that was lived and loved so dearly. Her pain is in the confusion and holding on to what was, fighting to stay longer, in a familiar place. She is in the fight of her life and knows the bell is near.
I go back with her for the moment, in the place and time where comfort and familiarity lives. She continues to fight to keep the moment and experience present. I continue to live in the area of grey, between the past and present. It is hard to keep the material logical world in view; my heart and mind want to surrender to the deep abyss of this moment in time. I am numb and can’t see where I am going, I feel completely lost and not sure I will be able to get back. I start to wonder, in this space, how to hold on to this knowing and story. To keep the end in constant view; how do I hold on and continue to feel alive.
What once was a home filled with energy and life is now filled with things and time past. The childhood me of this family in this house is left with my mother holding on. I can’t move from this place, of deep sorrow. I am surrounded by flashes of the past and pulled quickly into the hard reality of the present. I am taken down this windy road, my heart and mind twisted, continuing to hold on while slowly letting go.