Lonesome Valley

Mother appeared to be sleeping.  She was curled on her side and covered with her dusty blue comforter.  Her eyelids fluttered and she saw me.  It was just a stare for a few seconds, and then she said my name.  I sat beside her and stroked her short gray hair.  I always think how much she hated "old ladies with short hair."  But cutting her hair was just another loss due to her dementia.  Her longer hair became tangled and unruly.  Now, while stroking her sweet head she said, " I'm scared.  Don't leave me.  I'm afraid to die.  I'm dying."  She looked so defeated and scared.  What could I say?  I am utterly helpless.  I can't ease her disease.  I can only hold her hand and stroke her head. 

I assured her that she would live today and tonight and tomorrow. 

"Really?"

"Yes, you will live today, and tonight and tomorrow."

It was enough.  She asked me my name.  She needed to be sure that I was who she thought I was.  She closed her eyes.  I sat with her.

There is an old song that says, " You've got to walk this lonesome valley.  You've got to walk it by yourself. Oh, nobody else can walk it for you.  You have to walk it by yourself."  Mother always loved that song, and this is her lonesome valley. But somehow I think we can walk in the shadows along with her.  It is not our journey, but we watch her journey and hold her hand and stroke her hair through the lonesome valley.