"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
You've done it again.............my eyes well up
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