It's in the rearview mirror...

"A cat, even when mortally ill, keeps those wide calm

eyes focused on the ever-changing kaleidoscope

of the here-and-now.  There is no thought

of death, and hence no fear of it." 

- Lanza R, Berman B. Biocentrism

It was close…so close that everything around us felt as though it were standing still.  There was quiet chatting, but the sounds seemed, in that moment, to completely disappear.  One might say it was surreal…

The time had was at hand…

As the hardwood trees of the north present brilliantly colored leaves in the death throes of their short lives, so the season of my sister’s life had come to an end.  We had all been drawn to this place, not simply because it was the end, but rather by some primal urge to be part of the transition…a powerful and compelling feeling that there was nothing else we could do...nowhere else we could be.  In the oddest of ways, it was quietly comforting to be in this place to say good-bye.

Saying good-bye…this was not a “…see you later…” or “…see you in the morning…” This was not a “…see you…” at all.  It was standing on the wharf of life watching a loved one walk up the gangplank with a one-way ticket in hand…. it was the end.  There would be no more tomorrows…no quick and knowing glances that come only from the intimacy of the years…no inside jokes that comfort one in their familiarity.  No indeed, the end was coming with the unrelenting mass of a one hundred car freight train entering the darkest of tunnels…too much momentum…there would be no turning back.

Some things can’t be explained…

In those final moments, fixed securely in my mind, I took her drawn and shrunken face in my hands. I leaned in to whisper how deeply I loved her – her skin cool and surprisingly soft.  In the most primitive of ways, I rubbed her cheek with my cheek…her forehead with my forehead…her neck with mine.  It was as though I hoped I could give her heat and life where there was no heat and little life.

Her daughter Mariah had been putting lotion on her face and dehydrated lips…some saline drops on her closed and dry eyelids.  As the tide was slipping quickly away, I was compelled, to open her eyes and gaze one last time…to see if there were something I could understand…some comfort in this comfortless moment.

During the final months of her life, the brightness of her eyes, those sparkling windows of the soul had begun to dim like the greying waters of a stagnant pond robbed of its underground spring.  They had slowly taken on a dullness that added injury to the insult of watching her life drift away into the darkness of a starless winter’s sky.

In that most intimate of moments, something magical happened.  Magic…there is no magic…for magic is but illusion.  Yet in that moment, as I opened her eyes, I was captured by their liquid clarity.  I am not sure I have ever looked into the eyes of another human being that were so clear.  Those eyes…those eyes transcended the devastating disease that had stolen my sister’s life like a thief in the night.  Something happened that moment for which I simply do not have the words to express…no well so deep, no ocean so wide, no universe so expansive that can speak to that moment.

Nancy and I had always been close…the closeness that comes from years together, tempered by the knowledge that we liked each other…we loved each other…in many ways celebrated each other.

Love simply is…

Love is one of those curiosities of the human condition.  Writers, who in their self-indulgent wisdom separate love into different categories, often amuse me.  I get there is a difference between affection and carnal love, but all of it…all of it finds itself on the continuum of an expression reduced to this:  Whatever the motive, love is the long distance run of unfettered affection…the volume of which can be as high as the loudest audio speakers at a rock concert and as subtle and soft as the brush of silk against a young child's cheek.  No matter the ‘volume’ there is a texture of unbreakable strength in the desire to know and be known.  “For God so loved the world…”

In those last moments, lost in the clarity of my sister’s translucent eyes, there was a conversation…a dialogue…an indescribable knowing.  It was clear there was no fear, no sense of discomfort regarding the unknown.  There was an understanding…a softness…a comfort and consolation…for me!  Her final gift.

Five minutes later she was gone…she had slipped away…the ship freed of its mooring moved beyond the horizon.

Retro – no introspection…

I am not sure I have ever experienced a moment with any living creature as intimate as those, and yet even now I cannot recapture their richness.  Writing these words has been an attempt to record them…revisit them…relive them if possible, but of course it is not possible.  In the scripture, it says that after the Angel visited Mary to tell her of the impending birth of the Christ, she “…pondered these things in her heart…”

As I “ponder” the last moments of my sister’s life, in my heart, I find the edges are softer…less clear…not so focused nor intense.  BUT this I do know, the brown liquid windows to her soul spoke to mine…touched me…expressing in those wordless moments the ancient expression…”Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid…”

I long to touch that soul once again…I have little doubt I will….

- ted