I'm Dying

It has been months since Mother told us she was dying, but that is what she said again yesterday.  I found her dozing when I arrived, and it took her a bit to awaken and focus on me.  But her first words to me were, "I'm dying."  In the past she has been able to describe what she was feeling.  She has described it as being in a boat in the fog or as a sinking feeling.  Sometimes she has said it is like things are fading. Yesterday she could not tell me what she felt.  She just repeated, "I'm dying."

The look on her face was not terror or pain.  She just looked anxious, and her eyes had that far away stare that dementia patients get.  That "the lights are one but no one is home" look.  She grabbed my hand.  I told her I thought she was okay for now, and she relaxed.  I stoked her hair and put lotion on her face.  I told her about my day and fed her peanut butter crackers and gave her a Coke.

Usually, some hugs and kisses and some food helps her decide that she is not dying.  But yesterday was different.  She remained in her "I'm dying" mode.  It was as if she were holding herself close to keep what mind she has left intact.  Yes, she smiled and told me the crackers were sooooooooo good and the Coke was strong and burned.  She said the lotion felt soooooooooo good.  She pinched my arm over and over.  It was the usual routine, but there was something new there between us.

She is dying.  And it is a slow, horrible process that will take years, and she is sometimes aware of it.  That is even more horrible.  Crackers and Cokes, hugs and kisses can't change the process.  I can only hold her hand and be there through the shadow times.

How I Do Love Thee

I love you when all you can do is smile.

When you forget how to raise a glass to your lips and bend over the glass and slurp and sip, I love you.

When you press your nose to mine and blink and stare like a child playing a game, I love you.

I love you when you chew holes in your clothes or chew the buttons off your pajamas.

I love you though you howl and bellow.  I love you though you don't always know who I am.

When you cry because you think your food or your jacket is dead, I love you.

When you fight having your teeth flossed, and you breath can knock me over, I love you.

I love you when you ask the same question ten times in as many minutes.

I love you when your face is dirty and your hair is a mess.

I love you when you throw your water on me or pinch my arm.

I love you when you tell me I am a bad girl.

That is not always you.  I love You.

I love the you who gave me time when I was a child.  Who brushed my hair and ironed my dresses.

You who teased and prodded and made me do my best.

I love  you who held me when I cried and kept me safe from so many of the traumas of life.

I love the you who played with me.  The one who taught me to cook and to grow a garden.

I love the you who taught me kindness and fairness and faith.

I love the you who wore underwear with holes and old dresses so that I could have shiny new shoes.

You who celebrated every accomplishment in my life.  You who were always there with advise.

You never left or failed me, and I will stay with you because that is how I love you.