Sunday, July 24, 2011

A breath of Light


She’s dying and I don’t know what to say.
What do I fear?
What am I feeling?
Am I good enough?
What does she need to hear?
How can I release us both from this idea of death?

The sterile British hospital ward is filled with row after row of sad dying old women.
Dearest Mummy, so pale and frail, is ninety-three and already going into Cheyne-Stokes labored breathing . . . she’s is going soon.
I sit silently next to her . . . waiting for inspiration.
It comes.
She whispers, “Janni, will you take me home with you?”
I smile, “Mummy, you are already home in heaven with me now where you never left.”
Her eyes are so warm and loving as she takes one last look at me, then closes her eyes and lets her last breath evaporate into the room, filling it with a brilliant white light.

July, 2011