It's difficult for me to know if you still know who I am. If you know who you were in this lifetime, and why you have loved ones still around you, helping to ease you into this rite of passage. I wonder if there is still a part of you that fully recalls the faces of your daughters and your husband, makes the connection in your heart, and that still continues to convey pleasure for you. You were the most patient of mothers, kind and sweet, and so happy to be a mother to us. You were a positive role model to your daughters in the way you raised us. You tempered dad's short-fused outbursts with radiant sunshine, like a perfect rose-kissed June summer day.
Hot, fiery tears have fallen upon my pillow in the last few years, sobs have wracked my world. I've sadly said farewell to the mom I knew. You've slowly slipped away from us. You look like Sandra. Your eyes are still that deep doe-brown. But those eyes aren't always seeing what is there. The tangled brain is twisting it into unrecognizable form. Hazy, impermanent. But, sometimes, I think I see a spark. That you're still in there. Still with us in a conscious way. But, like an ember on a breezy night, the spark brightens and then it's extinguished. Poof. Gone. But, you were with us for a brief moment.
I treasure those moments. They are becoming more rare. It occurs to me that there is still one thing that will always connect with you, no matter if you know who anyone is or not, and that is LOVE. You can feel safe and comforted and be taken care of until you take your last breath. As heart-wrenching as it is to see you drift away from us, we can shower you with love when we are with you, so that you'll feel at peace.
I love you, mom.
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