Yes, I think my grandmother would say, yes. You are a bit at loose ends.
Have you been there? Do you know? It’s what happens when the world turns in such a way that you can’t get your footing, find your breath, steady your gait. You know there are a thousand things that could be done but none of them feel quite right—not even doing nothing (which I happen to think is a very fine thing to do once in a while).
And so I find myself here in this house that is both mine and also not, familiar and foreign all at once. It is so quiet I hear the clock tick tock, tick tock.
(One would think this stillness a blessing.)
I got up early this morning—washed the towels, emptied the refrigerator, wiped down the shower and the sink and the bathroom floor—preparing to leave; ready-making for the long drive home. There were a hundred little decisions in support of Make it there before dark. And then I stopped to say goodbye. To hug her neck and kiss her cheek and tell her, one more time, I love you more. I will be back in a couple of weeks, I planned to say.
But she reached for my hand and closed her eyes, and as she fell into another sleep, she didn’t let go.
Neither did I. I knew without thinking it was one of those times, one of those more-rare-than-you-think “life” times in which you are to submit, to be led, to stop planning and sorting and managing and simply Let It Be. And so I did.
Which has brought me here tonight, back to this house, alone, quiet, grocery-less, completely Off Plan and not sure what to do next. Television? Ridiculous. That fantastic book or that stack of magazine I’ve toted 300 miles—no. Instead I sit, restless, feeling in my bones I am off kilter because the universe is trying to right itself, as surprised by this late week change of plans as I am.
And I pray for my Mother, there in that skilled nursing bed, a woman who most certainly did not see any of this coming. I pray this night finds her sleeping peacefully, wrapped in our love, lost amid dreams of brighter days.
Beautifully written. And much more poignant for those of us who have nursed our mothers as you are doing now. You find yourself grieving the process of loss, not the loss itself. The loss that is too hard to take on yet. And so, as you learned, you sit and just be grateful for the moment you have. Prayers for you to find Gods love and comfort during this new season of life. Posey raised a good daughter.
I know that it must be harder for you each time that you leave her side. I am sure that she feels your love wrapped around her…. and Posey is bound to have the peace within her of knowing what a fine daughter that she has raised… I love you both!
What a gift you have for putting feelings into words. Holding you close in heart and prayer, dear friend.
Beautifully stated. Relatable. I am walking with you as I worry for my own mother and her decline. Be still. Find peace. There is a gift to be found in this time.
My heart is heavy for you and your Mom. Peace be with you, Cathy !
Cathy, I think I missed something, but I’m lifting you & your mom up in prayer. Blessings & peace to you, My Friend!