Monday, May 2, 2011

a quiet honoring......



life can sure be hard.

uncharacteristically, i remembered the way there.
i just knew it.
stopping at the bathroom first, i walked in and thought 'oh my gosh,
i even remember the bathroom.'

the downstairs.
the gift shop.

it was all familiar in a way i wished it wasn't.

i guess i knew i'd be sitting in the same lounge that i sat in
a few years back. i guess i knew that. but still my stomach
churned as i walked in.

between calls and meetings with the doc, josh and i sat by ourselves
for a bit in the lounge.

i didn't want to sit there just us and the quiet.
i wanted to walk around, pace, get out of there.
but i sat still.
and i remembered.

the lounge.

the same lounge where a few years back i wrapped my arms around my mom
and explained to her that my dad wasn't gonna make it.

where i wondered how on earth my family didn't understand my dad was
dying. and how on earth it was me who came to tell them.
how on earth it came to pass that i sat facing my ex-husband who was closer
to my family than i and explained that my dad was dying.
how on earth did the world get so skewed?
how was it that it all fell out that way?
i remember that feeling. that the world was upside down and none of
it was making sense.
so much of it came flooding back.

josh read a magazine. i sat there and felt my discomfort.
i watched it. i looked and observed and said 'wow, is this uncomfortable.
let me look at it and see what it's doing.' i wanted to watch. i wanted to
see what was inside of me.
i watched discomfort crawl all over me.

in the middle of this, my friend came out of her meeting.

and then it came time to hold her.
to sit and listen and cry with my friend.
her daughter, her son, her son in law...

there were some rip your heart out moments that i so want to write about to
just get out. but they're theirs, not mine. and so i'll leave those be,
floating around inside of me for now. trying to hold them and honor them
in my own way.

hugs were tight, long, and real.

at one point i watched josh with his arm around her, just listening and nodding.

some smiles. some laughs. a whole lot of tears.

handing the keys to josh in the parking garage i asked if he'd drive home.

i teared up a lot and rubbed my forehead a lot.
noah has explained to me that the rubbing is 'pacifying'
it's a way we pacify ourselves.
i thought of that as i did it.

'yeah, it sure is.' i thought.

they're still there.
waiting for a sure sign so they know what to do.

will that take hours or will it be days or what will it be?
every moment an eternity.

we spoke of gratitude on the way home.
of how everything looked so much more precious.
and how the day felt so much more a gift.

i get stuck with stuff like this.
what to do. how to help. how to honor.

i always think if it was me laying there i'd want to shout to those
i loved......go, live! don't waste it! go grab it! learn from this!
life is fleeting! don't waste it!

it's a quiet holding it right now.

a quiet acknowledgment of what it is i have.
and a quiet remembering how precious it is.

and a quiet honoring of a friend.


Merry ME said...

With my very first experience with seeing death happen I didn't know what to do. I was scared for me and for the person and for the person's family. I tagged along on repeated visits with our priest and participated in some of the church's rituals. Mainly, I held her hand and offered love.

After one such visit, a mutual friend said if he were ever in that condition, he'd want me to come visit. I doubt he remembers saying that but I do. It was the first time I felt validated in that work.

Hey, Ter, if I'm ever in that condition, I'd be honored to have you offer your support, love and compassion. I think there is a reason the world fell out the way it did when your dad died. Because you were the one with the biggest heart.

terri said...

mary, thank you......that meant a lot.