Mom's Journey Goes On...And On

Wednesday morning, I called my sister for the update on Mom. I was thrilled to hear that it looked like Mom was going to recover enough to go back to her apartment. Better news than I had expected in a million years.

That afternoon, my sister called me back. Mom "crashed." She was in bed, barely conscious, too weak to sit in her chair or eat. Nobody knows why.

They took her back to the hospital last night. In an ambulance. I told my sister, "Just don’t let them zap her again." And she said, "Well, with the pacemaker, they shouldn’t need to." Sigh!

And so this card-carrying agnostic stops what she’s doing at odd times during the day, adopts the hundred-mile-stare, and wishes with every fiber of her being for Mom to give in and go on...to whatever there is to go on to. I don’t know why, but I’m convinced there is something, an unimaginable transcendence to the next level, whatever it is… And I can’t help but think it is where our spirits really belong, are in fact straining to go, once we slough off our corporeal baggage.

It breaks my heart to know she’s clinging so hard to…so much less than she could have if she just let go.

But nobody said life was easy.

And neither is death.