5/18/12

Life and Death




When we drove here, I knew that it was the last time I was going to really feel fresh air on my face, the last time I was going to see the city skyline against the blue sky, the last time I was going to see the purple and white iris exploding with riotous exuberance in their garden plots.  I knew it was the last lovely thing I would share with my beloved.  It was beautiful, and it was bitter.

This morning I woke up to the sound of birdsong.  I lay still for a few minutes, my eyes closed, and for that few minutes I felt... like me.  Normal.  As though I could get up and take a walk in the morning's tender light.  As though I was going to live to see my son and baby granddaughter grow up, and celebrate holidays with my beautiful and loving family, and share romantic getaways with my husband, and make colorful soft textiles with my once-clever hands, and laugh with my friends.  It was beautiful, and it was bitter.






3 comments:

Delighted Hands said...

Well, life is always bittersweet-so it only makes sense that death will be, too. Glad you are putting it all in perspective.

Nancy K. said...

I am so sorry that this is happening to you and to your family. As a Mom, I can't even begin to imagine what your mother must be going through. I suspect that despite any physical difficulties and lack of privacy, having you stay with your parents is a gift to them. At least your mom feels like she can DO something.

I pray that you are able to experience some degree of peace and feel comforted by all of the love that surrounds you. That love is a testament to the kind of person you are. You are in my prayers...

The Violet Hoarder said...

I have never met you face to face. We've only interacted over wires and air--but I believe you are someone defined by love not fear.

What you are facing now I haven't yet faced, so anything I say to you seems rather cheap and second-hand. Not as intimate or deep as I wish it could be, nor as comforting.

No one gets through life without losing everything. You've helped me see that as utterly disheartening as that fact seems, there is a grace behind it that loosens our grip when the time comes. You are afraid, worried, distracted, sad--but you are still pouring forth love.

Please don't take this as hyperbole--but you ARE the fresh air and the blue sky and the white iris. You will be present to all those who love you and whom you love forever. Your story--what little I know of it--is written in my heart...and the hearts of all the members of this community and everyone else you've touched.

Please keep writing as long as you can. I think it may help.