Geese honking on the pond.
Bass booming from the car beside me at a stoplight.
My little dog scratching herself.
My world is filled with rhythm this morning, a metronome keeping time. Except that you can't really keep time. It streams past us, leaving only a whirl of sights and sounds and smells.
Dad's oldest brother died yesterday, the first of that generation to go. One of my mother's brothers and one of her sisters are very sick right now, too.
At one point yesterday afternoon, amidst the flurry of phone calls, I pictured my cousins making decisions about arrangements and services and facilities, making endless phone calls, dealing with the details of their father's death. I know that my folks will not live forever, but do not understand in any real way that they will die and we will go on.
This morning, every sound is a tick of the clock.
8 comments:
Well said, my friend, well said.
I know this feeling. It seems fearfully close and yet utterly impossible to lose them.
Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. :(
I have watched my grandmother survive about every person they knew their age...and it is very hard for her. I wish more attention were paid to these last stages of life. After all, we are all (hopefully) going to be there someday.
Please give my best to your parents.
:)
Seems like you are fully present in each tick and tock.
I so understand how you feel right now, going through some of the same stuff myself. So hard to imagine them gone, even knowing it may be getting closer to their time.
I am sorry to hear about your uncle.
Take care of yourself as you sit with all this.
sending love...to be joyful and en-joy every tick...that is the trick.
It's an understanding that's very difficult to grasp, while they're still here and after they're gone.
ooph, it's so loud. Breathe.
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