I say help even though there is actually nothing I can do. In this case help means "sit with". Help means "sing to" and "talk to" and "read to". Help means "wait", "just be present", "try not to yell".
I say die and that I actually mean. She says she's just so tired. I hope she's not tired AND afraid. I mean, what can I say about what comes next? I've got "I don't know" and she's got God and a soft, gentle heaven filled with family and light and a body that actually works again. She's got everything she needs so what is she waiting for?
I gave my love one long hug and squeeze as I left home. I kissed my child and drove away with salty lips from the goldfish crackers he was eating. I drove for 2 days with no dread, no anxiety, no excitement, no joy, no sadness. All I felt was this enormous and totally uncharacteristic CALM.
All I feel is quiet and calm.
(I wrote that from the road next to this river:)
(No wonder I was calm. Now that I'm here the story is a little different. I'll get into that later...suffice to say the business of dying is expensive and filled with paperwork and my mother is issuing directions to everyone around her with a painfully quiet voice that gets more difficult to understand by the minute.)
PS It's never to early to www.getyourshittogether.com(Sorry, blogging remotely so I can't do hyperlinks)