By A Curran
Mother lay dying in the hospital bed, doped up to the hilt.
Immediate and extended family members had gathered at her
bedside for days now, comforting each other during a time of
grief. We cried in pain, laughed as we shared childhood
memories, teased each other, kissed and hugged. Day turned
into night; night turned into day as we came and went in an
endless procession of loving.
Despite this companionship of loving family and friends, I felt
bereft and more than a little helpless. When my sister swabbed
mother’s lips with water, I felt comforted myself. When my
brother wiped her brow with a warm cloth for hours on end, I
also felt comforted. I wanted mother to talk to me, to speak
words that would reassure me and ease my pain, that I might
remember her by. I tried to be strong for myself and for
everyone, but I just didn’t feel ready to say ‘good-bye’.
A week or so into mother’s stay, hospital staff shifted her to a
room with a magnificent view of the lake, the mountains and
sky. I drank in this view, the colors of the kayaks and kite
surfers on the lake, the postures of harried pedestrians on the
street.
On the day that mother left us, a brilliant rainbow arched across
the skyline. It was a beautiful sight, visible to us all. A sister
whispered to me, “now whenever you see a rainbow on your life
journey, you will remember mother, and remember this day.’
And so, I give thanks for the gift of a rainbow, for now and for
always. Because when I see that rainbow, I feel her close, I hold
her close.
Wanting one last conversation with mother – her words always so carefully chosen.
This poem was generously shared with Go With Grace, as part of Dying Matters Week 2024. Thank you so much for sharing your beautiful words.
