March 5 is coming fast. I am flooded with emotions about what this past year has been for me as person, but also as her daughter. I have learned ways to be patient when I didn't think it possible and ways to stand my ground when pushed to my limits. Not one moment has been overly easy, and all of those moments have been a learning process. And a growing process.
It's hard not to think back on this time last year, it's basically seeping from my pores. I remember putting an air mattress in their big closet. I could be close enough to hear the slightest call for help and those last prayers that lulled she and I to sleep; he used his last breaths daily to speak them softly to her. The days came harder and went slower as the minutes passed. She told me it was going to be on Monday. She told me lots of things. And there where those times when she was in and out, as she was preparing to leave. When she was out, she was always busy talking to people. A few times I caught a name, they were all loved ones that had already passed. She was having these unconscious conversations with them, asking questions. Getting excited. Getting sad. Making plans. Opening up.
I know for sure that she was on her way out and she would talk to them in her sleep. She would wake up and talk to me in those moments before she woke up completely. She always did say the weirdest things when you'd wake her up. But the stuff she said to me in these final weeks turned out to be some of the most profound experiences of my life, although I didn't know it then. She connects to me. I had no doubt that she would, she was so worried about leaving and it was so hard for her to let go, but I never thought this connection could be so strong. She sends me messages, she helps me to grow. She is with me in so many ways that I can't even keep count.
For the record, I guess I could count.
