Woops. I was going to start another thread, so as not to hijack this one, but I realized that Spyralle actually was asking for folks to post positives. My life is nothing but. I could write a YIPEE book but it would just be about life and it would not be nearly as interesting to read as it is to live, to be sure.
Anyway, my mother passed away in January. I am so grateful that I was able to live near here for at least a little while before she left this world. Some of you might remember my story, and that she had been ill for quite some time.
Since this is a "good, positive things" thread, I should share why her death was such a good thing.
My mother had been a very athletic, verbally articulate and quick witted woman. Very strong, but with a gracious and soft kindness she shared with everyone. My father died 21 years ago, and she did a remarkable job staying positive and strong without him for the remainder of her life.
My mother spent the last few years slowly and gradually becoming incapacitated. By the time she died, she could barely speak, could not walk or do anything physical by herself. During her last weeks, she could barely move.
It's a lot to explain the medical pathology of why she slowly disintegrated, but essentially, she was old and it was her time.
This incredible woman remained amazing until her last breath. She pretty much went in and out of consiousness and sanity for a while and in her last week, she could not speak, except to say:
"Thank you" and "I love you".
This she said, and later barely whispered, to anyone who came near her: to the nursing home attendants or any of us who adjusted her body or swabbed her dry mouth, or simply came to sit with her. Everyone.
I am overwhelmed sometimes, thinking about those two expressions that this formerly articulate, intellegent "lover of words" had reduced her communication to.
Those two things are all we need. To express gratitude and love. The essence of our true nature...our true purpose as humans.
And that she never lost. Or perhaps she found it again, uncovered after years of "life" layered over it.
There is a harpist at the nursing home, who as part of a study on dying and music, goes into the rooms of the terminally ill patients to play for them.
On the morning of Friday, January 12th, while the harpist played to her, my mother quietly let go of her body.
I have nothing but joy in my heart that I knew such an amazing lady and got to call her mom.
Mum
