Glimpse

a tender first wave after Mom's death

a couple of days before Mom died, I took a walk on a beach she took us to when we were kids. The ocean always gives me ease and comfort, and endless magic and awe.

Before anything. Some time to rest.

To rest in the millions of flashes, pulses, jolts and flows of emotion.

As yesterday morning, you took your last breath. While I was stuck in traffic on my way to you. I get it. When you gotta go, you gotta go.

After years of dancing with the unpredictable, unrelenting silent beast of Alzheimer's, you decided this past week, you were done. One week of exiting this plane on to the next.

I am confident that Dad greeted you, along with all the ancestors. Like soft wings of light.

There is much more to say about your life, Mom. So much life you lived.

But for now. A moment to rest in this long awaited event.

I can rest knowing, as you always said, you were “well taken care of.”

We had so many on the Mom team. Your beautiful caregivers made a paycheck far far less than their worth to us. They are family.

You were loved in so many ways by so many as you declined. A bottomless cup of comforting ginger lemon tea kind of care.

It’s time to rest for a bit. So I can have space to reflect. So I can pause before emptying the cupboards in your kitchen. Before packing up, bagging up, sorting through all that remains in your apartment. Before making decisions about what goes where.

It’s time to just rest right here for a moment. To honor your death with light and love and tenderness. You are my Mom. I love you. I thank you for being my amazing Mom. For always being so proud of me. For everything. And for always telling me. What a gift to live with that kind of warmth in my soul. So many are not so blessed. I share you with them. And you would be happy to share your smile with all that needed it.

I’m so sad you died. But I’m so relieved that you did. No more suffering, lingering behind lost eyes. You can rest. Be with Dad.

Soar through the beyond in peace.