Gone From My Sight

My mother died at 11:52 A.M on Wednesday, November 5th, 2008. Dad was sitting by her side. He says "She woke up, looked at me and said 'I want to go home'. I told her to close her eyes and go, and she did." Very peaceful, no drama. Dad called Aaron not 3 minutes later and he walked in the house at 12:28. I started packing and by the time we got the dog in the car, the errands run, etc, it was almost 2:30 before we were on our way. I got to my parents' house at 5:45 last night and will be here until Monday at the very least. The viewing is Sunday night, the funeral is Monday morning and the burial is Wednesday. (She's being buried in the Veteran's Cemetary, and Tuesday is Veteran's Day so dad doesn't think they'll do the burial that day.)

For now, I'm ok. Not sleeping, but ok I think. Of course, I haven't really slept since Friday - not more than 4 hours a night. I'm awake, thinking and planning and singing to myself. Just...not sleeping. Friday I came down here and spent the weekend with my parents, and Saturday the nurse told us that mom had less than a week. I knew I'd be back down here in a matter of days and wondered why I was even bothering to go home! Mom was more or less comatose the entire weekend, waking every so often to ask for water and to tell us she wanted to go home. We kept telling her it was ok to go, we loved her, no one was mad at her, but she's stubborn, she is. :) I think her body finally got the message that the soul was already gone. I'm rambling, I know, and I'm sorry. It's 4am and I'm exhausted and so much has happened that I just couldn't bring myself to talk about. So I leave you with a poem that was in a booklet that hospice gave us, way back in July.

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I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.

Then someone at my side says: "There, she is gone!"

"Gone where?"

Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and she is just as able to bear the load of living freight to her destined port.

Her diminished size is in me, not in her. And just at the moment when someone at my side says: "There, she is gone!" There are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout: "Here she comes!"

And that is dying.

Written by Henry Van Dyke