Life gets in the way

Mother's Day.

My grandmother, my last surviving grandparent is lying comatose after a stroke that has rendered her no longer apart of our world the night before. She cannot hear or see. Even if she could wake up, she is gone.

This was not how anybody envisioned Mother's Day, but people wrapped up in life dont envision death all that often. Mother's day would go on, and despite the ache inside, it was a celebration. And it could not but highlight why we have days like these: to make sure that, for at least a little while,  we can express in all-too tacky ways how much we need and love those that are not here forever.

I cannot help but look for the signs of flagging vitality in my own mother. Is she slower or less sharp than she used to be? Am i losing her? No. But i am losing time with her like floating feather moments through my fingers. The lump in my throat threatens and my vision blurs.

I look at the garden and float with the conversation for the next while. Mum is fine. Mum has always been there and in some way i tell myself, she always will be. Deep breath and my heart settles. I drift back into the conversation.