mom and dad

I've seen it there for the past 4 visits, at least, but I'm always busy, you know - I've got things to do, important things, like cook, organize, run errands, watch comedies. But this visit was different. I opened the lower cabinet on the island and took out the big metal bowl that Dad used to make bread in every Saturday morning. He keeps onions in it now. I took out the 2 cup glass pitcher, and the little bowls of what looks like baking soda and nutmeg (maybe it keeps bugs away?). I washed down the bottom of the cupboard, then got another wet paper towel and washed away the thing brown streak of something that had spilled countless days or month ago. It was on the insides of both of the cupboard doors. It's not as if anyone would ever have seen it, and it shouldn't have really mattered, but for some reason, this trip it did matter, so I cleaned it. Now I know it looks nice, and clean, and well taken care of, and loved.

Mom is still coughing a lot, and has trouble breathing, swallowing, and sleeping. I've been in the Land of Denial for some months now, but I decided this trip to return to the land of Reality, as cold and harsh as it may feel. My mother's going to die very soon now, and I want to be fully present for her passing. We went over more details for the funeral, and the gathering beforehand. I'm going to look for a good picture of her to blow up and frame for the altar, and put the funeral service notes in the folder with the rest of the information we got together last summer. We'll be all set.

I watched Mom sleeping today. She spends most of her days in her blue recliner, even most of her nights now. I watched her mouth moving and her body twitching - maybe she's remembering her younger years when she could talk loudly and chase us around. The tears started - no surprise - I cry very easily these days - then I looked over at Dad. He was looking at her, too. With such a look of tenderness in his eyes that that really made me start crying. But I figured he couldn't see me as I was sitting at least 10 feet away. He looked up at me and nodded really big and smiled, and I smiled back at him and nodded. It's okay, it's good, it's perfect, it's beautiful, but it is just so d*** hard to love someone so much that you wish stupidly that they could live just forever. Can't be done - shouldn't be done - this is just a stopover, I know, I know, you don't need to remind me or tell me everything will be all right, because I don't know how I'll feel afterward. I don't know if I'll be able to give her eulogy, or if I'll be doing that hiccuping kind of crying where I can't even speak. Maybe I'll be calm and beautiful and have a strong voice. I just don't know.

Maybe I'll cry for a year, maybe I won't. I know I'll be sad, but maybe it will be different than I think. I just don't know. I've never lost my mother this time around. Maybe I'll talk to Sandy, who lost her dad last summer, or Dave, who lost both his mom and dad, or John, who lost both HIS mom and dad, or Carol, or Shannon. I get it - there are many out there, and it's the natural "Lion King" circle of life thing - I get it. But still ... returning to the bare Land of Reality is kind of taking my breath away right at the moment, and I'm having a little trouble concentrating on much of anything, so forgive me, will you? I know it will be just the way it's supposed to be, so I'm concentrating on just putting one foot in front of the other, and being grateful for everything I have in my life.