vendredi, mai 11, 2007


I know I'm going back to New York-today, tomorrow, perhaps on Mother's Day. Dad's oxygen level dropped again yesterday-his lungs are full of phlegm, and he could not cough it up. So they intubated him again. He was awake and aware, my sister told me when she called to tell me that we were close to making those final decisions. He told her he was grateful to her for what she had done. There's a small chance that the antibiotics are clearing the pneumonia in his lungs. But what happens the next time?

I want to know what to say, if, God willing, I can see Dad when he's alert. Thank him? Ask him if he is at peace? What would I say if he wasn't? Read Emerson to him? Maybe I will just stroke his head and hold his hand, and tell him I love him. Love alone abides in those rooms where time is numbered in seconds and minutes, not days.

I was sure by now, God, You would have reached down and wiped our tears away, stepped in and saved the day. But once again, I say amen and it's still raining as the thunder rolls I barely hear You whisper through the rain, "I'm with you"and as Your mercy falls I raise my hands and praise the God who gives and takes away. CASTING CROWNS Shelter in the Storm

1 commentaire:

Catherine + a dit…

Dear Elizabeth+

I found that the only thing that mattered to my mother toward the end of her life here was that she was loved and that I would be all right after she had gone. I assured her of this several times a day. She would mouth back that she loved me too as she had been robbed of speech by the subanakroid hematoma that was to be her demise.

She was very aware and alert as well, her blue eyes alight with the promise of her next adventure, her next life.

Sometimes we would not talk at all; it has all been said before, and I would lightly stroke her hair and cheek, and lightly lay my hand on hers. What passed between us then was a tangible message of presence and love and finality, at least for this world.

Sometimes no words are best and the silence and the eyes communicate all that needs to be said.

You will find your way, both of you, as this time draws to a close.

With empathy and love,