Just Write — How Have I Missed This??

I’m not sure how I’ve missed this the last couple of years, but my writing companion from A Deeper Family, Heather King, has a lovely meme each Tuesday called “Just Write.” We are invited to sit and write out whatever is happening, whatever rises to the top. So, here’s what rose tonight:

It’s a gray day here, and a blue night. The fire is crackling in the corner — a gift of love from my husband every winter’s night.

And I am feeling the ache, the physical weariness of lifting, toting, sorting, sifting. And the emotional ache, too.

The frightened look on mom’s face when I got there on Friday morning. Confusion reigns in Mom’s world during times of stress. My brother noted that she was much like my dad was eleven years ago, when we moved them to that retirement community, the one we were moving her away from on Saturday. The one dad never wanted to go to, the one we hoped would bring my mom some respite from the never-ending care he needed back then.

But that rest never came. She did it all, finally hiring a strange little man to stay with dad for two hours once a week so she could grocery shop. And breathe.

She never really recovered from all of that. The exhaustion, the grief, the missing him.

And then, she began to lose her sight. And then my youngest brother died.

Now, I can see in her face, hear in her words, intuit from her body language — now she is the lost one, the one sunk beneath anxiety with a capital “A,” the one who can’t remember what you told her two minutes ago, the one who wants so badly to do it right, to understand, to ‘get it’ . . . but she cannot.

So tonight, I am in recuperation mode, remembering her silence on the long ride up here, hearing still the strangled question: “Have we been this way before?”

Yes, Mom. We’ve been this way many times. Many. But this may well be the last time, sweetheart.

Yes, it may well be.

 

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Comments

  1. Lord, when Diana finally closes her eyes tonight… give her the gift of deep, restorative sleep. Let her deeply rest in your peace, in the knowledge and safety of your presence. Guard her heart and mind and muscles and bones tonight and in the days to come, as mom adjusts. Hold her mom in tender arms and let settle any confusion or fear. Thank you! Thank you! for such a beautiful place, and for Dick and the help of family to lighten the load. Bless her faithful service as much as she blesses us… and more. Amen. = )

  2. Ah, Pat. Your words are like balm. Thank you. Miss you. But love seeing small peeks of poetry every once in a while. :>)

  3. Diana, I cannot even imagine how hard this season is for you, seeing you Mom this way when you’ve known her differently. Praying for you, for your weary soul to be filled with all of Him. I don’t know if I mentioned it already but I really like your new site.

  4. The move is done, thanks be to God. May he grant you the respite you so desperately need. And may your mom, fragile and confused as she is, know in some deep way that she is cradled in the Father’s tender loving care.

  5. This is beautiful, Diana.

    I read it last night, just after watching the last Downton Abbey, and I felt this deep sense of grief that life, in all its beauty, is so fleeting. We do not bear the weight of this gift as we should.

    Thank you for sharing your heart.

  6. My prayers and blessings go with you, Diana. How thankful we are, as Christians, to cling, by faith, to the promise that one day there will be no more pain or suffering — or confusion. For then we shall see him face to face, and know him even as we also are known. (That part always boggles me — I can’t really take it in, but oh how I yearn for it!) In the meantime, you are being faithful to keep coming to him with your questions and tears. Rest, Diana. I speak his peace into your heart, mind, body, and soul.

  7. Ahhhhh… you and your mum have been heavy on my heart over the last week. It’s hard, what you’re all going through, just hard. The emotional exhaustion is the hardest, I suspect.
    I will continue to pray for grace and peace and strength for you all.

    • Thanks so much, Donna, for the thoughts and prayers. We have literally been carried by them these last few days. Mom is doing better than I expected, actually, and that has helped ease my mind and also ease her transition thus far.

  8. I can only echo kingfisher’s eloquent words above and pray.

    Father, our sister is in the midst of great emotional pain and exhaustion. Shower her, I pray, with many serendipity blessings, to ease her burden and lift her spirit. In your name of love and peace, Jesus, Amen.

    • Thanks for you kind words and your prayer. We are both recovering from the stress of the move and she is settling in even better than I had hoped thus far. Counting on grace, that’s for sure.

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