Last night, sitting in the hot tub with my mother, both of us naked and one of us more wrinkled than the other, one of us sipping on some sweet plum drink that one of neighboring rabbi's, a man who never comes without some new brew he's concocted--last week it was a fig tincture, this week plum with brandy--both seriously strong. Sitting in the hot water in the dark after an early evening rain, I said, "this waiting is like staring at the sky searching for signs of the coming storm. We know it's on it's way, we know it's coming, but no one knows when."
We've written the obituary, the eulogy is on its way, the little thank you cards for thinking of us have been ordered, the casket, the papers signed. We've even discussed what we'll wear and whether dad will be naked with a simple wrap or whether he'll wear his favorite sweatshirt--stained and well loved as it is.
This waiting, it's not that we're in a rush--no, we love holding his warm hand, the squeeze of it, his strength in the face of death--it's a joy to be able to walk into his room every morning and chirp, "hi dad!" simply because you can--lucky you.
But the waiting is strange-- all of us, especially dad, packing the bags for a journey we know he'll take, but we don't know when.
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8 comments:
love and strength to you during this hard time. xo
your dad must feel so loved and grateful that he is not alone...that he has those,who love him dearly, around him.
xoxoxoxo
as odd as it is, no matter how prepared i thought i was for its arrival, i wasn't. my sister says the same.
ours was a different kind of wait...a slow shift in living, a diminishing of function and mobility and appetite. a rally here and there, back and forth, a long slide over several years kept us distracted. we knew one day it would happen, but we became accustomed to the new "present" state until it changed yet again to a level just below itself.
and then one day, unexpected, death came while mother was napping in her recliner beside my father in his. she was gone. no goodbyes, no last moments or chats with her children who lived a distance away. poof - gone.
sending you wishes for love and peace and rest.
Thank you for your profound postings. It's so strange, how mundane some of those moments can feel. Even now... despite our knowing that every instant he is with us will be revealed as priceless, the instant he is gone. If only we could see each other in this light, every moment of every day. Love you...
oh, I am so sad for all this...
just stopping by to check on you. hope you are getting some rest and that the love of family and friends has wrapped you safely in comfort.
I am so glad you are writing this, Laurie, I know my turn to lose a parent will come someday and it will always be too soon...thank you for your beautiful writing and peace and love to you and your family, your world...
patricia
Condolences to you and your family on the loss of such a uniquely generous man. He gave so much to so many, and his exemplary life will continue to guide and inspire us for generations to come.
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