This week has been bitter sweet. I have dreamed much of mom, for some reason. The visits are nice. But, makes the waking and living of the rest of the day, a bit tough.
I have been reliving the last gesture I made towards mom. I was standing over her hospital bed, watching her in so much pain, while feeling like such an awful daughter, for not being able to relieve her pain.
Alas, I have spent decades, in fact, trying to ease the pain, of others. Not wanting them to have to know what not feeling wanted, or needed, or valued, or cherished, or heard, or loved, or all the other ‘ors’, the majority feels, yet runs from.
Watching her pain, wishing it were my own, I took her hand, in mine, leaned down close, gently kissed her forehead. I lingered over that kiss for an eternity. I forced that moment to BE an eternity, sensing, knowing, it would be the last gesture, the last touch, the last bit of mom, I would ever take with me.
The night before, I lay beside her, lay my head, on her tummy, wondering how many more times I would find this comforting space. I think I knew…*sigh*…last tummy laying on gesture.
A few hours, before the tummy hug, mom and I had played Gin Rummy. My back had been killing me. I needed to go somewhere and lay down. I refused to, not knowing if this would be our last card playing moment. Surely not as mom wiped the floor with me!…*gasp*…surely life dare not leave me with no chance to even the score. Mom’s smirk, her triumphantly spreading of her winning hand WAS the last card gesture.
Hours before the last card playing, before the last tummy hug, before the last hand hold, before the last forehead kiss, God and Life told me to drop what I was doing and be there for mom’s latest surgery.
The weather report was really bad. A winter storm was coming. I had just enough room to make it home. The winds howled their sadness.
“Hurry”, the winds said. “You won’t have much time with your mom. The snow is coming! Hurry! We asked if she could hold back. Alas, the snow said life must do what it must and she had to come”.
I dropped everything. It was my last daughter’s gesture, to let mom know she was important enough to stop the world for. My world, at least. For, mom WAS my world. My dreams began, then ended, or so I thought, with her.
Coming, full circle, I found myself standing over mom’s bed, taking her hand, kissing her forehead, a last gesture of love. From, me, to mom. I took that gesture, my last gesture, with me.
That last gesture helped me fight my way through the snowstorm that showed up on the drive home.
The winds howled, the snow fell, recklessly. The car shook violently. It took everything to keep the car on the road. The elements mirrored what was in my heart: A violent shaking, a rage quacking, a silent scream that dare not rise, to the surface, to join the snow and howling, raging winds.
I needed to get home safely. I made it home. I made it through the snowstorm. Yet, I find the snowstorm, within, is still raging a bit, I think. May be why I have not been able to sleep much.
I couldn’t figure out why. Until now. I couldn’t understand why, til now, I had been dreaming of mom.
I think she has been trying to let me know that my holding of her hand, my kiss upon her forehead, my laying on her tummy, my dropping all to go see her was all she needed. I wasn’t a miracle worker. Just her daughter. All I could give her was my gestures, my love and hope they were enough. They were.
They were!
I find the storm within, has quieted. Subdued by the knowledge my TRY was all God and Life and mom has ever asked of me.
I tell myself, my posse of one, that it’s ok.
It is.
Now, those gestures are the fuel that drives me. Drives me to cherish and LIVE every moment. Not knowing which will be or not be a last moment, a last gesture, THE last gesture.
EVERY moment is the last gesture, as far as I am concerned.
Life is short, beloveds. We are not promised a million moments, a thousand last gestures. Best make the most of your moments, your gestures, beloveds. Make them count. Make them last the best you can.
If I would have but one last moment, one last gesture towards you, it would be to say this:
Your life matters. YOU matter. Your life was worth the death of a King. You are priceless. You are worthy. You are resilient. You are a fighter. You are unique. You are loved. By God. By Life. By me. Life is short but long enough to make a difference.
Say.
Live.
Love.
Go now, beloveds. Hurry, says the wind. You know not when the snowstorm will come. It is coming. Before it reaches you, get in those last gestures. You can start with me, if you so choose. Christmas is coming for me. Without mom. Maybe someone will have room in their pocket for me.
quiet inside now,
Cassandra
#YourLifeMattersToMe
- BELOVEDS, YOU CAN HAVE MY FLOWERS. I DON’T NEED THEM ANYMORE.
- Forgive them, Cassandra, God said to me
- Still In Love
- REAL TALK: DESPISE NOT SMALL BEGINNINGS, BELOVEDS.👘🦺🥾👟🥿👞🩴👢🩰👡⛑️🔌🕯️🔎🖌️🖋️📢
- IT ME!
Why Can't I Be Loud?! 