31 January 2010

Family Illness, continued

Granny's life is at risk; she seems to me to be in a place she said she never wanted to be. Certainly it's changed forever. I can't foresee how it will be as it used to be for her or for any of her loved ones.

I walked to the hospital. Her family was gathered around her bed. Granny was tired; she moved her bruised hand when prompted. She closed the right eye she could open. She sleeps. Her right brain isn't in touch with her left body-side. Her right body-side creeps to the right bedside.

I sat in the chair on her right bed-side, and I put my left hand on the bed-rail, which helps to contain Granny, where her right hand might grasp the rail, so her hand falls on mine. I put my other hand on hers and we touch, hand upon hand, her hand sandwiched. She lifts her hand up, then puts it back down, so I put my right hand on hers again. I pray. She lifts her hand up, then puts it back down, I sandwich her hand again.

This ending, this winding down of a life reminds me of the births of my children. There were months of preparation, a winding up, in the pregnancy of an expectation, with no being yet, and then, all of a sudden, a child is born, and we are filled with a presence, a life, that is forever life changing. So too with this winding down, all of a sudden, a life is unalterably changed, a being is dimming, a winding down, our lives are unalterably changed, and I sense the beginning of the emptiness of the presence that will be irreplaceable.

28 January 2010

Family Illness

We have a trauma in the family; Granny's life's at risk; a bleed from cerebral amyloid angiopathy. My interior life has moved into slow motion. It's not sticky or muddy; it's constricted. The sun is bright, the sky blue turning grayish from an approaching snow storm. It's cold in the room where I write. TV's still a content of redundancies of programs I've never liked. I feel danger; there's no danger to me. My interior life just feels slow, preoccupied with a purpose I can do nothing to affect. Death's imminence not yet arrived. I'll walk to the hospital.