I love Elephants. I really do. I love their enormousness, their voluminous ears and those incredibly large brown eyes. And, they have an amazing capacity for love in that big elephant heart of theirs.
That being said, the "elephant in the room" ? .. not so much. It takes up a LOT of space (air) and good grief let's just acknowledge it already. My tongue hurts from biting it and I lose control now and then, forget that I'd promised myself I'd keep my mouth shut, and ask a question about said elephant, only to be met with silence. It's not like it's a bad elephant either.
Then again, it's not like I have to be in the same room with it. I think I'll just keep that door closed. Maybe I'll lock it so I never go there again. Yeah .. "that's the ticket".
Saturday, January 11, 2014
Friday, January 10, 2014
Just when you think
Just when you think you have it all figured out ..
You're feeling comfortable in your skin and things seem perfectly aligned, in their nooks and crannies where they belong ... or where you think they belong because you like it that way, and you're walking along feeling good about the world ..
something shifts. You can almost hear the tumblers ..
It's not that it really affects you all that much. It's like a little rowboat floating peacefully alongside all the others tied up at the dock. Then something bumps it (ever so slightly) and it turns just a little bit, enough to set all the other boats rocking .. which in turn, causes the inevitable ripples.
Now your skin doesn't feel so comfortable anymore. It has nothing to do with you, but things are just a little skewed and off balance and your head feels a little odd and your stomach a little knotted, and you know you just have to put your deck shoes on, walk upright and hope no one can tell you're feeling seasick.
Because, before you know it, things will realign, you'll be stuffing new nooks and crannies and thinking you have it all figured out again .. for a season.
You're feeling comfortable in your skin and things seem perfectly aligned, in their nooks and crannies where they belong ... or where you think they belong because you like it that way, and you're walking along feeling good about the world ..
something shifts. You can almost hear the tumblers ..
It's not that it really affects you all that much. It's like a little rowboat floating peacefully alongside all the others tied up at the dock. Then something bumps it (ever so slightly) and it turns just a little bit, enough to set all the other boats rocking .. which in turn, causes the inevitable ripples.
Now your skin doesn't feel so comfortable anymore. It has nothing to do with you, but things are just a little skewed and off balance and your head feels a little odd and your stomach a little knotted, and you know you just have to put your deck shoes on, walk upright and hope no one can tell you're feeling seasick.
Because, before you know it, things will realign, you'll be stuffing new nooks and crannies and thinking you have it all figured out again .. for a season.
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
"Good Bye"
I stood there .. watching him breath .. in .. out .. in .. out, and wiped the foam that had formed at the corner of his mouth away. His son, before leaving, had told him it was okay .. if he had to go somewhere while he was away.
I thought we had more time, perhaps another day, a night .. but his breathing suddenly changed and there was a long pause .. I told him he could go, it was his turn, his time, he'd served well and filled his place .. finished the race.
Another breath, another pause ... and then "he's gone now" from the nurse. I sobbed. With relief? Sorrow ... joy that it was over for him, sadness for those who loved him most. And then I thanked God. How perfectly he'd gone. Home to rest. How we are blessed.
This wasn't my first "death" but this one was one I had prayed for, not just for him, but for his son who was so weary it broke my heart to watch him. And now it is done. I can't believe there is no longer a need for me to wipe his face gently, smooth his blankets, tuck his feet in, kiss his forehead .. but I do, one more time.
His grand daughter arrives not knowing her beloved grandfather is gone, this man who was one of her best friends, who had opened his home and heart to her during a time when she expected it least .. this man she took into her home for weeks at a time and loved and cared for him the way not many grand daughters would. I have to tell her. This being more difficult for me than the death. I have to place those words into her ear as I hug her .. "he's gone". She collapses, this tall niece of mine, and I hold onto her and gently lower her to the ground. We sit on the driveway while she sobs and my heart splinters into little pieces for her, wishing so much I could take her pain away. No, it can't be. Don't let it be. Let me say good bye.
Not long before his best friend arrives, someone else to tell who loved him so, a woman who helped us so much during those last weeks, someone who would miss him more than I ... and lastly his son, the man I love, the one who cared so lovingly for his Dad the last 2 months of his life. It is done. It is done! He races up the stairs and sees him lying peacefully on his pillow the way nurse Betsy and I had arranged him, so he looked as though he was just sleeping .. still. He's thankful, so very thankful it's on this bed in this house that this great man, his father, took his last breaths.
Old man, I loved you .. you lived in our house and took away our privacy, our oneness and I was not happy at first, at the thought of sharing my husband, my home with you. But a hand laid something on my heart, thank you God, and I could not bear to have you finish anywhere but home. Our home, your home now. It was just a few short weeks that we had you here. Weeks I'm so thankful for now. And thankful for a oneness that is stronger than ever because you were here.
Yes, I loved you more than I ever thought I would, and you loved me. Your silly, unorganized, unladylike daughter in law, so not like her mother in law, and yet .. you loved me . and I thank you for that. I'm so glad we got to say those words before medicine took away your ability to. But then the squeeze of your hand told me so and the look in your eyes. You asked me once "how do you know?" when you couldn't get all the words out. That is how I knew .. I hope, dear old man, that I helped make your last days the best they could be so you knew too how much I loved you.
I thought we had more time, perhaps another day, a night .. but his breathing suddenly changed and there was a long pause .. I told him he could go, it was his turn, his time, he'd served well and filled his place .. finished the race.
Another breath, another pause ... and then "he's gone now" from the nurse. I sobbed. With relief? Sorrow ... joy that it was over for him, sadness for those who loved him most. And then I thanked God. How perfectly he'd gone. Home to rest. How we are blessed.
This wasn't my first "death" but this one was one I had prayed for, not just for him, but for his son who was so weary it broke my heart to watch him. And now it is done. I can't believe there is no longer a need for me to wipe his face gently, smooth his blankets, tuck his feet in, kiss his forehead .. but I do, one more time.
His grand daughter arrives not knowing her beloved grandfather is gone, this man who was one of her best friends, who had opened his home and heart to her during a time when she expected it least .. this man she took into her home for weeks at a time and loved and cared for him the way not many grand daughters would. I have to tell her. This being more difficult for me than the death. I have to place those words into her ear as I hug her .. "he's gone". She collapses, this tall niece of mine, and I hold onto her and gently lower her to the ground. We sit on the driveway while she sobs and my heart splinters into little pieces for her, wishing so much I could take her pain away. No, it can't be. Don't let it be. Let me say good bye.
Not long before his best friend arrives, someone else to tell who loved him so, a woman who helped us so much during those last weeks, someone who would miss him more than I ... and lastly his son, the man I love, the one who cared so lovingly for his Dad the last 2 months of his life. It is done. It is done! He races up the stairs and sees him lying peacefully on his pillow the way nurse Betsy and I had arranged him, so he looked as though he was just sleeping .. still. He's thankful, so very thankful it's on this bed in this house that this great man, his father, took his last breaths.
Old man, I loved you .. you lived in our house and took away our privacy, our oneness and I was not happy at first, at the thought of sharing my husband, my home with you. But a hand laid something on my heart, thank you God, and I could not bear to have you finish anywhere but home. Our home, your home now. It was just a few short weeks that we had you here. Weeks I'm so thankful for now. And thankful for a oneness that is stronger than ever because you were here.
Yes, I loved you more than I ever thought I would, and you loved me. Your silly, unorganized, unladylike daughter in law, so not like her mother in law, and yet .. you loved me . and I thank you for that. I'm so glad we got to say those words before medicine took away your ability to. But then the squeeze of your hand told me so and the look in your eyes. You asked me once "how do you know?" when you couldn't get all the words out. That is how I knew .. I hope, dear old man, that I helped make your last days the best they could be so you knew too how much I loved you.
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