If you're reading this, I'm amazed! I've been a delinquent blogger of late, mainly because I haven't felt inspired, or I've been busy, or everything I have to say I think is only interesting to me.
My job as a hospice worker always manages to teach me something. Everyday I work. I see so many examples of self-sacrificing love that I feel put to shame. It's like someone takes my face between their hands and wrenches it from my inward stare to force me to look around me. And consider.
Like what would it be like to be fairly sure your husband will be gone in less than 6 months and to be planning a trip across the country because he wants to go.....setting aside all of your fears of being away from other family members or of what might happen on the road that you won't have the tools to deal with. Yet you go forward with your plans anyway because the person you love more than anyone else in the world wants to go with you one last time before you die.
And what kind of intimate memories you are creating with the aunt you are caring for who is widowed and has no children while your sister is 1500 miles away caring for your own mother who has significant disabilities. And your aunt has always been fiesty and independent and now you share much more than your humor and affection. She needs you to help with her very basic personal cares. Your relationship has changed forever.
And what kinds of things family members do to each other that cause so much hurt and pain that 20 years later it is impacting the family's ability to provide calm, organized cares. I cannot imagine.
Everyday I am reminded of my mortality. And most days I choose to live in denial of it.
But I live in enough of the reality that I feel guilt when I don't do and say things I should do or say if this were my last day on earth.
Like thank-you. I love you. I forgive you.
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1 comment:
Yes, like sitting with a fellow who knows he has two months to live. I thought that I might like to die in the fall, when all the world is contemplating death. But it would be hard to know pretty much for certain that this would be my last fall. I think I might do a few things differently.
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