I open the door,
but she’s not there;
her everyday chair
is empty
in her room,
the quilt is ruffled and twisted on the bed,
the fan has been knocked backward and the footstool pushed to the side of her easy chair,
traumatic evidence,
an eerie, almost-quiet filling the room,
except for the lonely snore-breathing of the dog,
snuggled into her favorite fleece blanket at the bottom of the bed,
waiting for whom she wants most
it’s so strange to be here when she’s not,
when she won’t ever be again,
won’t ever be resting back on the fluff of all her pillows,
reading on her Kindle,
sucking on Good & Plenty’s or chewing on Chick-O-Sticks,
no more belly-laughing at silly meme’s to be heard from the other room
those last few days while she held on,
I spent as many hours as I could sitting next to her;
I told myself even if she wasn’t conscious,
she knew I was there
what I really meant, though,
was that when I looked back on those days,
I would know that I had been there,
that I’d held her hand,
that I’d kissed her forehead and said my goodbye
because it still happens suddenly, even when you’ve been told it’s terminal,
even when your hope and your reason and your reality have collided,
especially when it doesn’t happen in any of the countless scenarios you’ve played out in your mind,
even when she’s begun to fade away more and more,
until you swear you can only see her outline against the sheets,
even when you’ve had the chance to say goodbye
when life leaves,
it’s always sudden
and just as sudden,
sadness moves in and sits with me,
another passenger,
distorting every view,
just like the way the world looks from the bottom of a swimming pool,
when you try like hell to right yourself and find the sun
something in you changes when your mother dies;
you go about the rest of your days just like you have before,
pretending you are fine,
knowing it is all a lie –
for a while,
you become an actor in the play of your own life
because grief is an entity unto itself;
for a time, it makes a tunnel of our lives,
and it is all too easy to lose sight of other people in the darkness with us,
to wish they weren’t there,
so their loss might stop rubbing up against our own
but if I’ve learned anything from watching my mother become fragile,
witnessing her fight like hell to come to terms with the finality of life,
it’s that it’s ok to be sad with someone who is dying,
and it’s ok to sit in the sadness with others;
it is a gift to be invited in close during tender times,
moments of grace we can share with one another
because, in between the question and the answer,
the beginning and the end,
there is always grace
Reblogged this on Emerging From The Dark Night and commented:
An achingly beautiful poem on loss. ❤
LikeLike
I am so sorry for your loss.. This brought back to me so clearly the final days in my sister and mother’s lives.. and the lines about how grief distorts present time were so poignant.. ❤ Your Mum' s spirit is so close by.. at least I felt my Mum's especially in those first 40 days. ❤
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, and love to you. 💜
LikeLiked by 1 person
And in return.. ❤
LikeLiked by 1 person
Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you. 💜
LikeLike
Sorry for your loss Angela!
The writing is beautiful and peaceful
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Kat. 💜
LikeLike
This is quite beautiful. I knew there was some left in the world somewhere.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, River
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re welcome.
LikeLiked by 1 person
This poem hits home very hard. I lost my mother a year ago next week. The grace for me was that I was able to be with her during her last day of life and the moment when she left it.
LikeLiked by 2 people
I’m sorry for your loss, Liz. Yes, I agree. I was fortunate to be able to do the same. With my father too, actually. It’s breathtakingly sad, but an unbelievable moment of grace. Love to you!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Angela.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Absolutely beautiful, Lil Sister. Again, I’m so sorry for your loss, but so grateful life allowed you to be so present with her ❤️❤️❤️
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Rita. 💜 Me, too.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Love you too!
LikeLiked by 1 person