It's been that way for my mother. For twenty-two years she has lived with a diagnosis of Multiple Sclerosis. For eighteen of those years she has had little mobility, and the last several been totally confined to a wheelchair. She has had round the clock care and has found it easier to simply sleep in her recliner rather than be transferred into her bed. I know that each visit is most likely the last visit.
Last Tuesday night (23rd) she altered her routine. She held her head up for her evening medications and then at ten o'clock she asked to be put in her bed. At eleven-thirty CST (five thirty a.m. GMT) I received the call that she had gone into a comatose state. Her lovely caregiver held the phone to her ear, and I said good-bye. Joyce said she smiled. We hung up.
At eight-thirty Wednesday morning, she opened her eyes. Joyce asked her if someone was there to get her. She looked past my niece through the window. The doorbell rang. It was the pastoral care minister from Mom's church. During the time it took to go and answer the door, my Mom left. As one of my cousins later put it "she fought that MS battle a long time and she finally won it."
Obviously I did not make it to her home in time to physically say good-bye. I did not get there until Thursday night. The last week has been a whirlwind of decisions, family and things that have to be done. The service honoured her well. The time with family was lovely to have under the circumstances. The decisions are too many, too soon. Therefore many are being deferred for a few months. I've returned home to get some things done here. We will return to Texas at a later date to deal with things.
Please forgive me if I am more quiet than normal. Words are not coming yet. They will. Words are how I put things in line in my head. But right now, there is just silence.
Though the fig tree does not bud
and there are no grapes on the vines,
though the olive crop fails
and the fields produce no food,
though there are no sheep in the pen
and no cattle in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the LORD,
I will be joyful in God my Savior.
The Sovereign LORD is my strength;
he makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
he enables me to go on the heights.
The fig tree forms its early fruit;
the blossoming vines spread their fragrance.
Arise, come, my darling;
my beautiful one, come with me."
~Song of Songs 2:13~