Help calm my heart, Jesus. Dad died four years ago today. I reckon the uptightness I feel about all the things I want to get done this week, wondering if I have enough time left (to live),keep me distant from the fact it is May 16, 2017 and so I breathe in and out and allow myself to feel and connect with what is true for me today. My brain is roiling. I pick up my pen and start to write.
I miss Dad’s presence in my life
that stage of life that wasn’t shouting
“You are losing them”
when they were timeless, ageless.
I didn’t think of losing them
because they would always be
Then comes the inexorable march to
decline and I start to hope it happens
soon because I know it’s not going to
get any better.
And even they want to
Then the immediate relief when it’s over
a curious blend of grief and gladness
with more gladness than
Because I know the difficult
difficult for them
and I want to be careful who I say
it to, because they might think I
didn’t want to take care of them
anymore, and I knew I
couldn’t and now they are safely
I start to wonder about my own
death. I fear for my children
going through the same process
with me if I live a long life
leading to a gradual
I pray for them, knowing
they will travel their own
journey with me, entrusting Jesus
to be present with them as he was
with me when my parents
I start to know and believe
this too is part of the life we live
our souls wrapped here in this flesh.
and gradually I come to find comfort in
Psalm 116:5 (MSG) knowing
“When they arrive at the gates of death,
God welcomes those who
And after a while, I decide to share pieces of our journey even though some might not understand, because others, maybe even my own kids, will experience the hard beauty of caring for, being present with, advocating for their parents, knowing sometimes it’s more hard than beautiful as they walk their parents home one day at a time. It’s all part of life/death/dying and rising again.