As I sit listening to my Mom’s favorite music, and the rhythmic hum and exhale of an oxygen machine, my mother rests in the living room thats lit only by soft orange candle light. I write, I pray, I hold her hand, and watch closely for her last breath as I try and keep my own breath steady, deep, even and calm
~ Excerpts from my nightly journal entries
Thru Soulful Eyes
***
10 days ago my mother laid down for a midmorning nap, and woke up blind, demented and neurologically incapacitated. A series of seizures and strokes, brought on by a deadly brain tumor has left her bed ridden, leaving her to live her last days in a medical bed. Her family always close by, sleeping near her, watching over her to ensure her comfort and care. Tonight, I’ve given her another dose of morphine, laid a sheet, tent like, over her naked body, tucking in the edges of the sheet to the frame of the medical bed that lays in the middle of the living room, least the touch of the sheet irritates her sensitive skin. Her mouth breathing is labored, and shallow, the color of her skin around her mouth is a greenish blue, her blond hair has darkened. Occassionally she moans in pain, agitated, struggling between two worlds… two realms, unable to let go.
***
She talks in her sleep, she talks to her deceased brothers, her mom and her dad. She talks to me and yells in delerium to so many that love her and that pray for her. She moans in anguish and whispers “why are there so many people here?” So many people? I wonder, as I look around the room, sensing that the two of us aren’t alone in the dark tonight. Who waits there just beyond the shadows, along the dark edges of the night? I’m not the only one vigilant, and protective. There are Angels in the room. They know shes not ready yet, these Angels are patient, letting her dream her last dreams.
***
As I watch my Mother from this side, from this realm, as I say my goodbyes and tell her how much I love her, reminding her that I will never forget her, I know that so many “eyes” are watching, so many are waiting on the other side, in the other realm, waiting to greet her. So many will be happy for her arrival, some have been waiting for so long to see her again. So many angels waiting for my Momma to come home.
***
I’m a little scared…I’m going to miss her so much. I can feel the heaviness in my heart, the small pit in my stomach, and the hot sting of tears of sorrow. Tonight, like last night and the night before that, I pray for her death, begging God to ease her suffering, ease her pain and bring her home, unable to selfishly ask for her to hang on and stay with me. I want to crawl in bed with her and hold her, If I died with her, holding her hand I would be ok with that.
***
I started calling Momma the “Lady in waiting”, with her soft hair spiked up in a natural short punked mohawk, she looks as if a kiss would wake her. It does not, I’ve tried, Dad and Brother have tried. she just lays there struggling to breath, to find comfort in her body. God won’t you kiss my Momma goodnight?
***
Today I’ve noticed that my Mom’s 3 little dogs are different, their tails are limp and sad. They are quieter than usual, now resting under Moms hospital bed. The only female, Molly, her hair seems to have been rubbed with a balloon, generating a static electrical look to her fur. I wonder what they sense, what they feel, what they hear, what they see?
***
Tonight, I’m angry. I’m angry that we have to continuously feed my Momma a crazy amount of drugs to head off delirium and pain. I’m angry for me and I’m angry for her. I want my animated, talkative, opinionated, sarcastic and hysterically funny Mother back. I can’t continue to watch as my Father cries. Damn it, I’m torn. I don’t want her to suffer any longer and I don’t want her to die, to be taken away from her home. I don’t want to be handed a box of ash. Tonight I don’t want the angels to wait for my Momma, go away, she is mine. I want a sorcerer to wave her magic wand and return life back to my Mom, return her to me, return her to Dad, to my brothers, to our family. I want her pain to end, I want the rose color of her skin, and the silk of her hair to return. I want this sorcerer to give my Mother the year that we had hoped for, the Christmas that Momma wanted and the 47th anniversay that she so badly wanted to celebrate. Tonight, I am angry, I’m sad, I hurt. Fuck Cancer.
***
We watch over our Mother as she lays dying. Siblings, adults, yet in some regard we are 2 children refusing to leave her side. My brother, Hawkeye and I share the duties of caring for the woman that brought us into the world. We both are extremely aware of the importance of these last days with our Mother. With the utmost care, tenderness and deepest love we are doing what is ours to do. Aware that our behavior matters, aware of the sacredness of the duties that have been bestowed upon us. Grateful that we have each other. Our awareness of each others mannerisms, body language, and reading each others thoughts are preternatural. We have always been close, This experience has brought us closer, making us calmer, more loving, patient and kinder humans. Mom’s last lessons…even in death her expectations are her teachings.
***
I’ve been asked to write my mothers obituary…Everytime I sit down to write I pause, I hesitate….All I can say is this too will unfold as it should. In the meantime, all I can do is write down this experience as seen through my eyes, thru soulful eyes.
***
Pikes Peak, Colorado
The shoe is on the hand that fits, there’s really nothing much to it
Whistle through your teeth and spit ’cause it’s alright
Oh well a touch of grey kinda suits you anyway…And that was all I had to say and it’s alright, I will get by, I will get by, I will get by, I will survive. We will get by, we will get by, we will get by, we will survive
~Touch of Grey , Grateful Dead
We will get by ,we will get by, we will get by, we will survive
Thru soulful eyes 