This is my first blog post since my mom left this earth. It has been seventeen days. We were lucky in that we had time to prepare, time to say goodbye, but it still doesn’t seem real. I can still hear her voice in my head, that musical little “Hi Les!” that always greeted me on the other end of the phone line. I still see her in my dreams, but she is never sick, always whole, always the way I most remember her, the way I want to remember.
It was a harrowing, heartbreaking experience, to watch someone you love so much slowly slip away. The hospice nurses marveled that she held on as long as she did– that she must have had some sort of unfinished business to tend to. But those who knew her well knew that she would let go of her tortured body in her own good time. Always the boss, always organized and in control, she would decide when.
If there is anything I’ve taken away from this last year of my mom’s life, it is that we have no guarantees. She never should have been gone at only sixty seven. There were still plans to be made, life to be lived, grandchildren to watch grow up. If my mom could be gone, then so could my husband, so could my brothers, so could I. I’ve been left with a resolve to follow my passions more fully, bask in each day more completely, love more abundantly. I have today and for now it is enough.
These photographs by Bill Armstrong reminded me of the fleeting nature of our lives on this earth. To see more of his work, please visit his website.
Artist found via Dolby Chadwick Gallery. Images via the artist’s website.