But that sense of sorrow and humility wasn't the biggest part of the lesson. That came when she very wisely pointed out that politicians are just people doing the best they can. I had somehow forgotten, because I disliked their actions and policies, that they deserve love and acceptance as much as anyone. Way to go, Kay. You spend time and effort to promote a new perspective on life that includes acceptance and love, but fail miserably at practising it. So I needed to be taught to remember that I am striving to love and accept all people, creatures and the things of the earth, and beyond, without judgment or crtiticsm. I need much more practise at this, but my friend really got through to me. My perspective has definately been changed for the better. My soul thanks you, sweet friend.
After being up two days and nights, as you can tell if you read yesterday's blog entry, I didn't have any trouble getting to sleep. I forced myself to stay awake until after 11 p.m., waiting for those unspeakable things to happen. But they never came to do them, so I zonked out. I woke up at 1 p.m. this afternoon to the horrendous sound of the sink in my room being "roto-rootered" out. I might have slept longer, but with thundering demonic noises blaring 6 feet from my bed, all I could do was make cringing gargoyle-type faces. And wake up completely.
Thankfully, that eventually ended and it subsided to plumber-doing-stuff-to-the-sink clanks and other metallic sounds. He left, leaving all his equipment on the floor, presumably to fetch something.
Meanwhile one of the aides came in, just beginning her shift, and stared at the equipment on the floor with puzzlement. Then I explained what had been happening with the sink. I complained to her that no one ever showed up to do the unmentionable things and she corrected me. They HAD showed up and they HAD done those things. I have absolutely no recollection of any of that. I was so soundly asleep that I snoozed through the whole procedure, including them rolling me side to side and changing my sheets. I find it hard to believe I slept through everything.
However I did once sleep through the death of one of my roommates, the removal of her body, all the doctors' and nurses' clatter and the removal of all my roommate's belongings. It was spooky. I went to sleep not long after I had called the front desk to tell them that my roommate, who was on a breathing machine, was making VERY SCARY breathing noises and, when I woke up the next day, she and all of her belongings were completely missing. I asked someone what had happened. I thought maybe she had been transferred to a hospital. I hoped that was it. But they said, no, she had died because her lungs had filled up with fluid. The only thing I could find positive about this was that her entire family had paraded in two days before and she, and they, had gotten to say good bye.
That was a life-lesson in itself. I felt bad for her family, but I couldn't be sorry she wasn't suffering anymore. I watched my mother suffer with fluids in her lungs. At the end, it sounded like she was trying to breathe through a defective straw. I whispered in her ear, "It's OK to go, Mom. We'll be OK." Not much longer after that her eyes, which been closed in a morphine-induced slumber suddenly flew open, she turned her head to look up at the corner of the ceiling, and reached up toward it as far as her arm would stretch, as if taking someone's hand. Shortly afterwards, she died.
That wasn't the end, though. My dad, her soul-mate, was sitting out in the hall trying not to cry. I had checked on him, but saw he wanted to be alone, so I went back into Mom's room. The lady who had been hired to take care of Mom and I were holding each other, crying. Suddenly, Mom sat up and took a deep breath. She'd been gone at least 10 minutes by then. I said, "She's trying to come back!" The lady said, with a small, affectionate laugh, "Irish!"
Then I said, "Mom, let it go." And she lay back and she was gone. I thought maybe her spirit had seen Dad crying in the hallway and wanted to come back to him.
15 months later, he had a stroke in the lobby of the Best Western in Stillwater, where he was visiting us. Ironically, it was Father's Day. He went into a coma and died 5 days later. I was there with my sister. It was easier to let him go because he had been so miserable and lonely without Mom. I knew she would come to get him. When he died, he went peacefully, and with a little smile on his face.
I hope none of this has made anyone sad. I do feel bad for the lonely souls who are left behind, but I don't see death as something bad. Even as a child, I never feared my death because I believed that death is no more than walking through a door from one room into another. Now that I've learned what happens when someone dies, I can only be happy for them.
This has all been a little profound. I didn't say any of it to convince anyone that they should feel the same way I do. I have just been writing what's in my heart. It's OK if we take different pathways. We're still connected.
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