I'll be leaving tomorrow to be with my family as we gather to guide my Mom out of this life. Or rather, to be guided by her through her final moments.
She had a dream on Wednesday night that she was sitting on a bench and all of us, her eight children, were there. She got up to get us, to gather us together. In reality, she tried to get up out of bed to find us and fell to the floor.
Yesterday morning, she refused to take any more medication, including her Parkinson's med. This means that the Parkinsons will accelerate. Hospice has been called in and her doctor has ordered a liquid form of morphine that can be administered under her tongue.
And she is gathering her children.
I find that for the past month, I have been both focused and distracted, focused on my Mom and distracted by the world around me. Jay and Jesse have both heard me substituting one word for another, as if my mind wanders off at the end of a sentence and can't find its way back.
The same thing happened when my Dad died.
I have also been reaching out for psychic comfort food. I'm now re-reading Emma because I need Jane Austen. I'm hand sewing because it's so meditative and soothing and doesn't take any math. And I'm weeding.
Like many gardeners, I dislike weeds but sometimes, like now, I truly enjoy weeding. There's something so satisfying about the act of cleaning, the ordering of life, removing what doesn't matter from what does.
I have a Medicine Card deck, based on Native American teachings, that I often use for thinking things through, for focusing. One of the precepts that I often return to in times of trouble is taking the time to realize who or what grows corn for me.
When you look at people or situations like that, decisions become clear. And even though the process may entail discomfort, that clarity makes it easier.
So I am weeding and mowing today, cleaning up my little patch of Lady Earth, removing what matters from what doesn't.
Oh yes, weeds have a purpose.
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