“…weeping may endure for a night,
but joy cometh in the morning.”
- Psalm 30:5 Bible
The call that came last evening was in
muted tones…the conversation thoughtful, quiet, and as has been the case
regarding this topic, tearful.
Back
up…
I had been in to see her a couple of times
in mid and late September. The second
visit toward the end of the month had not been planned, but there were a couple
of things where I could be of help, so it was back to Mid-Missouri.
I don’t carry the brunt of this…I go in
intervals that act as snapshots of the changes and the darkening shadows that
have become her world and envelope her like the unrelenting falling ash from a
toxic volcanic spew…you know, it’s everywhere and covers everything. The storm is impending no longer, the black
clouds crossing the plain have arrived, and it is deadly.
Mariah lives and goes to school in
Columbia where Nancy stays.
She is able to see her mother at least weekly, sometimes more. It is a blessing, of little doubt, to be so
close. It is painful, of little doubt,
to watch her mother and best friend wither away…becoming unwired from a
connection so deep and natural, the two of them often as one. This day, Mariah wasn’t sure Nancy knew her.
The last time in, Nancy and I went to the
movies, out to dinner and lay in her bed chatting. We hadn’t done that for years - the lying and chatting. Then, it was
just a good place to talk about whatever came into our minds…school, friends,
circumstances, sometimes life. Now, she
talked to herself, occasionally to me…it was just the comfort of closeness that
seemed to matter.
This was a place Nancy and Mariah found
themselves over the years. As a little
girl, Nancy reading to her at night, as an older girl, sometimes just hanging
out and talking, now…on this day…Mariah lying with her until she fell asleep in
her little bed in the assisted living center where she approaches the end of
her journey.
Mariah softly said Nancy is quieter now and
not eating much on her own. She said as
Nancy fell asleep beside her a small smile crossed her face...she hoped there was a place in
Nancy’s mind where she saw things as they had been and hoped the small smile meant
they were pleasant and comforting.
We talked about our
dreams…mine of my mother and dad…she of Nancy.
You know the kind...they can be so real. My Mum – so vibrant, so funny, so
engaging. Dad – always coming home from
work, or at the summer cottage in Ontario.
Sometimes the mirror so clear that for the briefest moment waking up
seemed the dream…the dream the reality.
Mariah talked a bit about the dreams she had been having about Nancy –
we shared the common experience of Nancy’s energy and unrelenting embracing
of life. The harshness of waking to
realize it had been only a dream.
No
forward…
While there is no way to know, the
music is slowing down…the instruments in minor key…out of sync. I will come in between Christmas and the New
Year…the helplessness palpable.
The call that came last evening was in
muted tones…the conversation thoughtful, quiet, and as has been the case
regarding this topic, tearful.
- ted
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