Mom is sleeping more, John and I less. Last night, John was emailing me at 01:49, about earthquakes in Indonesia. I was reading them at 03:20. Tonight, John has returned to Brevard; I am at Mom’s. I’ll try not to keep too close an earthquake vigil.
Mom is reposed and serene, usually a sign one is ready, without reservation. Today, Leslie and Ruth came by for a visit, and then went on. Tomorrow, Chris will visit, completing Mom’s request to see the four of us.
When driving down, I would notice the dried leaves tumbling in the high winds of today, thinking they were somehow a timely symptom, the last telling of a season gone.
Hers now, mine in time. I, too, am serene--with both.
Serene is “clear and free of storms or unpleasant change; shining bright and steady.”
She is.
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Oh, Grandmommy. I'm sad to be so far away.
ReplyDeleteI sent another card. I hope it gets there in time.
Liz, I will tell you what she would, which is to continue your path with the zest and passion you display. She did, and would wish the same for you.
ReplyDeleteYou might also, in a time of dreaminess, visualize talking with her, and say what you would.
Although I cannot prove it one way or another, we may all be souls traveling a path of repeated experience, banding together to enhance our learning and growth. What I love most about this warm concept is that it may very well be true. We are all soulmates.
A couple of weeks ago, she said she had one more thing to do, but refused to divulge what it was. Had it been the last visit of her sons, I think she would have said so, so I am left to speculate what that might be. Later, I shall do so here., for I suspect I know.
She and I love you, Liz, and smile when thinking of your delightfully fruitful path. She, too, realizes you're an old soul and we have help you on your way at least in some small way. When we talk of it, she smiles.
Should I come for a visit this Sunday? I can bring valentines.
ReplyDeleteYes, please, do.
ReplyDelete