Or

Or

We’re keeping vigil.
We’re not there.
We work and eat
and talk about
baseball and lilies.
But every cell
strains toward
that distant bed.
We listen without
realizing for that
distant breath
or its absence.
Is she still
in this world
or has she
flown away
into the peace
that passes
understanding?
And when she does
fly away in a
week or a month
or a year or a day
will we find peace?
Or just an empty
inner room where
we kept vigil.


Dr. M's mom's liver is failing. As we are held in tension waiting on "that call" - which could come tomorrow or in six months - I'm reminded of the tension I felt when my own mother was dying. It's a delicate dance between living our lives and waiting on death.