I am thankful for things.
First, the golden autumn sun. She likes fall. And now, it’ll probably always remind me of her.
Second, the hedgehog socks my sister got me for my birthday last month. I try not to wear them for every day; only on days I know will be rough. My theory was that they’d last longer, as I am very rough on socks, but I’m wearing them most days now. Still, I think everyone would benefit from a pair of trouble socks. 
Third, crusty hospice nurses. Not too sweet, but powerfully comforting. They know dying, and they’ve seen some shit, and they use it for the benefit of others.
Fourth, Mary Oliver. To wit:
“To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.”
Fifth: Peanut Butter. It’s just really delicious.
Sixth: My husband and my dog. They somehow have a compact on how to care for me. I don’t know the details, but it works.
There’s more. But it’s a good start.
Thought: It’s difficult to believe I’ll ever be ready to leave the world, because I love it, and I love life, even the hard parts. Even in this, there’s a feeling of privilege that I can love and feel and be here. But they tell me that everyone finds themselves ready to leave this world, and I can tell that my mother has gotten there. 

18 thoughts on “On the eve of my mother’s death, the tiny, beautiful things

  1. I can’t click the ‘like’ button because my heart hurts for you. Even though your mother is ready to leave this world, it is still very very tough, both for her to leave you and for you to let her go. Been there. You will think about her and miss her every day forever…good thing you’ve got those socks to help you through. Huge hugs.

  2. May fond memories of your mother bring you comfort during this hard time in your life. Look back on all the good memories you were able to have and smile at the fact that you were able to share these before she passed away. My sincere condolences.

  3. My heart goes out to you and your family. Your mother would be proud of how you’ve kept your heart open in spite of the grief, and how you’re learning from this profound loss what is important in your life, and what you’re grateful for. Such wise thoughts, so beautifully written …
    Thank you.

  4. I came back to read this again this morning for a couple of reasons but, most importantly, because I’m thinking it is setting in by now just what this last week has done to the weeks yet to come.
    You have such a connection to the right here and just now. And we’re heading into the least of your favorite seasons. And your mother, your greatest champion, will have to find new ways now to let you know how proud she is of each of your accomplishments.
    You will find her in the simplest and smallest of things. Sometimes, you won’t even realize until the moment is long gone. And then the bulb will flash. She is always with you. Just wait. You will be amazed. Be sure to laugh loud enough for her to hear you.

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