I want you to see these words before you read mine...)
This is my story: I keep seeing my Mother's eyes. They are green and soft and it has become harder for her to keep them open. She looks at me and thanks me for being such a good daughter and occasionally she says 'good sister' by mistake and I chide her that she'd best remember ME and then we laugh together. I can't say for sure that my Mother is slipping away and if I asked her she would say no. But I have become prepared for that possibility and I've found that the deepest kindest part of me is present with her in that small room of hers. I am pleasantly thrilled and also reassured that I know how to act in the presence of love when time may be short. There was a time a few years ago when the love I felt for someone blew up and flew wild and became sharp bitter pieces beyond hope or restoration. I don't think I will let that happen again in my life. It's not because I will hold back love, but because I know about good grief and necessary goodbyes and I know better how to live through that. I realized this week that I have finally, and I emphasize finally, learned how to stop my ever conscious emotions from overflow. Am I heartbroken that my Mother's body may soon carry her to another home? Yes, I am heartbroken. But not so much that I am not able, so willingly, to sit with her and be astonished by how absolutely and incredibly precious a human being she is. And by example, it seems, I too.
I would like to hear your story. Not about Mothers or love or heartbreak unless that is the story you want to tell, but about anything that moves you to appreciate your deepest truest self. Do you mind? Will you tell me?