There are truths which are not for all men, nor for all times.
“
| — |
Voltaire, Oeuvres complètes de Voltaire: Correspondance (via philosophybits) |
My mother has translated
to the next dimension.
The last contact we had, I told her I was giving her morphine, as I’d done the other two times. I gave her the dose, petted her head, kissed her forehead, and told her I love her and that I was so sorry she was going through this. Last night she could no longer stand, and her communications were gone. She was no longer there, just minor thrashing in pain and moaning a little. The morphine considerably calmed her, and I was relieved that she had relief. Our dear friend Verona had come to visit, and sat with her for ten mins, but mom didn’t even know she was there.
My BF Dean checked on her before he was going back to bed. (He’d got me up at 5am and went to bed around 6, but told me to wake him when the hospice nurse arrived.) He saw that she had just passed, and made certain. He came downstairs, set down his soda, and said my name as he gave me a strange look. I said, “Seriously?” and he nodded. I said, “Wow,” and have said the same thing many times today.
Verona went upstairs with Dean to see her again. I did not. I felt no need, and even stayed in the backyard with The Gypsy Doodle Dog while the lovely and kind folks from the crematorium took her.
I am numb and empty. Yes, I am OK. So far.
