Note: this is an excerpt from An Ordinary Death: Where Grief and Relief Hold Hands, available from Amazon.com.
I have not yet seen Mother this morning, but have just received an email from my brother. He wrote what I had guessed: last night’s stroke means she will no longer be able to take in liquid or food. The last days have arrived.
I will be driving down shortly to collect my middle son and family to get them to the airport.
I’m numb, but not surprised. Grateful this won’t go on forever; sorrowful at the loss; grateful especially for my sons and their willingness to so quickly get here and spend this weekend with her, to feed her and talk with her and tease her and turn her and watch TV with her. Grateful for all the friends and colleagues who have expressed love for me as they’ve supported me, read this blog, sent messages. Understanding when they say, “I wish I could do more.” I’ve said the same words myself. I am filled with love, and also with food, so generously given by those in the church where I serve.
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