2/24/14
I know in this time of my life it is not unexpected to lose a parent. No one is really prepared for all that comes with the end of a life. I found myself arguing with the hospice people to give Mom an IV. "She needs fluid" I demand. I get a blank look in return. " I can accept that she will die from cancer but it is ridiculous for her to die from thirst with a kitchen faucet 15 feet from her". I still wasn't ready to let her go. so we gave drops of water from straws and eyedroppers.. She wasn't going to die from neglect. Dammit. Finally it occurs to me that if her body can't take in the fluid we simply can't keep her alive. I do arrive at the destination but it took me a long, long time to figure it all out.
I blame the movies On the big screen .Death is always accompanied by a gentle stringed instrument composition. Whereas the soundtrack of her life was less elegant. It was the frantic reading of the Fantastic Mr. Fox by my 24 year old niece who thought Mom shouldn't be listening to TV in her last hours. We all come to terms with death our own way. I argue about it and my niece dramatizes it. My brother calmly sits and waits for it to arrive. Oddly enough it was like a waiting room in a train station and we didn't know the time table for her departure.
It's a month later. The Memorial service is over. The bills are rolling in and most are paid. clothing and personal items have been distributed to loved ones
Quietly, slowly and with painstaking care, we close the chapter on a life well lived and much beloved.
Emily Dickenson's poem " A Bustle in the house" has been running through my head all month.
The bustle in a house
The morning after death
Is solemnest of industries
Enacted upon earth,--
The sweeping up the heart,
And putting love away
We shall not want to use again
Until eternity.
