Love lasts forever. This I know to be true.
Sedge - Sit Spot #763 - March 1, 2021
41 minutes ago
Wednesday, March 18, 2020
Almost Wordless Wednesday: Two Years Gone
Love lasts forever. This I know to be true.
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Seeing this photo of your mom this evening is a great comfort to me. Love does last forever. We are not alone. I see the word "Laughter" on her wall. I love pistachios, too.
ReplyDeleteam-- This photo was taken in my sister's house. My mom moved in with her for the last few weeks of her life. It's good to see that word Laughter there. I'm so glad you noticed that.
DeleteYes, love lasts forever. My mother passed away just two and a half years ago, though for a year or so before that aspects of her life were slipping away from her till all that was left was her love for her family and friends; that never left her. I was thinking only yesterday how difficult she would have found any degree of self-isolation as she always looked forward to visits from her friends, which thankfully continued to be frequent right up to her death. Take care and remember all the love that will be with you always.
ReplyDeleteJohn-- My mom would have also found this social isolation so difficult. She loved being around people. You take care too in these difficult times.
DeleteWow that is awesome - eating pistachios and a few days later gone. I hope I get such a good death.
ReplyDeleteDr Michelle-- My mom was diagnosed with Alzhheimers a little more than a year before she died. The decline was so shockingly fast. On our last visit south to see her, we walked into her room, and she looked up at us and said, "Hi Rog, where's your wife?" She spent the last month of her life at my sister's, surrounded by love and family, and a nice big great dane named Lilly.
DeleteIndeed, it does. It is hard for me to believe it has been two years already.
ReplyDeleteColette-- It really does blow my mind that she's been gone this long. Not a day goes by that I don't think of her.
DeleteIt does indeed. And so lucky are we to be able to grieve the love that is no longer accessible in body but still lingers in our very souls. Hugs to you my friend.
ReplyDeleteLinda-- Yes, the love that is no longer accessible still lingers in our souls. I love that. Thank you.
DeleteWe always remember on the anniversaries.
ReplyDeleteRed-- Yes, the anniversaries do tug on our hearts.
DeleteIt does not seem like two years. Mercy. At least she has been spared the chaos our planet, politics and health have adopted.
ReplyDeletePatti-- It is pretty wild isn't it? Two years. Yes, she has been spared this chaos. Truly one bright side in this time of darkness.
DeleteA sad anniversary to remember, Robin. I always remember my late mom's as it was in Dec right before Christmas. My parents went through some touch times in their day, but I'm sure this current crisis would have been more difficult for them.
ReplyDeleteBeatrice-- This current crisis is so difficult for the elderly. I remember when my mom lived in an Assisted Living facility how often the staff and residents would get sick together. This would have been a nightmare.
DeleteHow I loved your mother. I fell in love with her here. She reminded me of my Aunt Maisy, both in personality and appearance. I miss her, too.
ReplyDelete37paddington-- I love that you loved my mom. She really was quite a character. I'm glad the she reminds you of someone you dearly loved.
DeleteIt's coming up on two years since my brother died. For me, it was like passing into another world or another dimension. There was such a difference in living in a world where my brother was not alive.
ReplyDeleteI have mentioned before, I think, about how modern physics appears not rule out the possibility of time travel. I don't think anyone actually believes it is physically possible, but the theoretical possibility gives me some little comfort. If it's possible to travel to the past, that means the past still exists. Every moment anyone experienced is still there. Henry, my brother, is still there, and your mother is still there. We can't reach them, but they're still there. I'm afraid only a nerd can get any comfort from that, but I take what I can get.
Mark-- I love your idea of time travel and that our dear family members can be reached if we can go back in time. I hope it can happen that way some time. I'd love to hug them again, the way you'd hug Henry.
DeleteAh, she still lives in my heart. You keep her alive with stories and photos. Did you light the candle for her today? Sending you love, tenderness, and solidarity on this solemn day.
ReplyDeleteTara-- I always think of the two of you together on the couch in Grass Valley. Laughing and enjoying each other's company. Yes, the candle is burning.
DeleteWow, it really IS hard to believe how quickly these past two years have gone. Funny, I recall something about how when we wanted to rant and rave about Trump that we should rant to your mom's spirit... or something like that. I still laugh when I think about that. You were so lucky to have her.
ReplyDeleteSharon-- I love that you remember that. We still do it. I rant out loud to my mom asking her to do all kinds of things I won't write here. LOL. Yes, my sibs and I were lucky. Thank you for your kind words.
DeleteI hope I can be as happy as your mom was when my time comes.
ReplyDeleteCatalyst-- That's a lovely thought. I hope so too.
DeleteThe circumstances aren't exactly the same but the sentiments are:
ReplyDeletePittsburgh, Christmas 1971
I waited, knowing the festivities
Would choke the flow of transatlantic calls,
Delays which brought their own blank auguries,
A prelude to the saddest of farewells.
“Ah… yes…,” my brother said, quite languidly,
Languor that looked for comfort in delay.
But what he added lacked necessity,
The link was cut and youth had gone astray.
She died within a distant older place
I’d left behind with callow eagerness,
Yet unrestrained by any false embrace,
Encouraged, taught, with chances of success.
She wrote, I write, but here’s the difference
No letters, now, to foil my ignorance
Roderick-- Thank you so much for sharing this poem. It reminded me of the poem I wrote after my father died. Entirely different circumstances, but the shared moment of loss. Here is my poem:
Deleteas you crossed the bridge
how much like Munch's Scream you looked
mouth black, opened wide
gasping for air that your aching lungs
had been for hours denied
and yet, you turned your wide eyes on us
and took us in like a delicious breeze
for a moment
a broad candle-lit pumpkin smile
replaced the cavernous gasping
as you looked at me, your daughter
and at Helen, your sister
who sat at your bedside, holding your
delicately-soft fingers
too slender and weak to hold even a
child's spill-proof cup
we wiped your forehead and cheeks
and talked to you
sharing our family's life blood
of joyous loving gossip...
and told you of those who called that day,
the last of your life, just to see.. to see...
but we knew you heard us less and less
as that relentless procession held you in sway,
finally when we could no longer
offer a single respite from the anguish
they came and lifted you upon a stretcher that
promised to take you more gently to the other side
with soothing morphine elixirs and the hum of machines
and there on your last passage from the bedroom
through the living room
to your dying room
you held my hand one last time,
looked so deeply at me,
and managed to mouth the words "I love you,"
without making a sound
Wow. I can't believe it's been two years already. I love that photo of your mom. She looks so happy and comfortable.
ReplyDeleteSteve-- These two years really flew by. I love that you love this photo... me too!
DeleteHard to believe it's already two years since your sweet mom died. That is a great photograph of her and I'm sure it pleases you to look at it. My own mother died many years ago and yet I still see things and think, "Mom would have loved that." Or I find myself using some of her favorite phrases.
ReplyDeleteNCmountainwoman-- I do love looking at that photo. It really is so interesting how much our parents are still part of our lives. It's truly wonderful.
Delete