The hours stretch into days. The pain gets deeper. The dying with cancer stretches on and on. I see the body and the mind gradually eaten up, yet the breath remains. I long for the release for you, but it is my own longing. I can’t fathom what is in your own heart and mind. I see you reach and grasp for your husband in what appears to be delirium. My head feels like pinwheels spinning in colliding directions.
A month ago we were laughing, exchanging stories, doing the typical sister thing. It is such a short time ago. But today, and yesterday and the days before that, have been interminable, watching you slip away a little piece at a time. Only yesterday, I was the big sister being blamed for all of your misfortunes. Today, I’m holding you, to try to protect you from what I cannot see.
I wish there was peace and calm and comfort. It hasn’t come yet. I see your daughter struggle with the loss of the mother that she knew and the remaining shell of your existence. I struggle with how to comfort her in this interim. The why’s ….. The when’s …..
The pattern from Jinny Beyer
Machine pieced, hand quilted