My mother is dying. She had a stroke on Friday and is lying in a hospital bed in Boise in a coma and she is, for all intents and purposes, gone. We're just waiting for her body to catch on to the reality.
I'm numb. I sit here and look at all the chores that need done, but can't seem to focus on anything for too long. I want held, but that's not an option for me. I sometimes feel pretty productive, but then want to curl up into the fetal position and rock back and forth. Everyone tells me that's normal.
Great. For the first time in my life, I'm normal.
I'm fortunate in that I have made peace with my mom -- for the most part any way. She is (was) who she is. I understand her more now that I ever did before.
I'm tired, but can't or don't want to sleep.
I don't know what to do. Nothing feels right -- I was in the garden earlier. My brother was helping me get caught up on two months worth of weeding. The funny thing is, I came across a small herb patch I had given up on and not marked. I had assumed the seeds never grew.
But I was busily pulling weeds when I realized there was something more than that godforsaken wild geranium -- cilantro. A few minutes later, I found sage.
I guess that's what life is like though. Buried under all the weeds is sweetness -- something savory and exciting -- the little things you don't notice when you're so busy -- but you have to pull the weeds -- get rid of the crap first.
I guess its a good metaphor for my life right now -- must get rid of the crap.
Maybe I'll try to sleep --