| ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- hold on, hold on Alone in a Wichita Falls, TX motel room. It sounds like an old country song. Or the start to a murder mystery. Either way. It's been raining today--lightly--and the air is much cooler than expected. The temperatures and humidity should ratchet back up tomorrow. Moved my trip up. I wasn't supposed to fly out until Tuesday but J. felt I needed to come sooner. So I changed my flight with only 14 hours' notice (and miraculously did not get charged more) and made new hotel reservations. Only the hotel where we usually stay was already booked up so I ended up further away than what is ideal in a place that is, let's face it, a lot less nice. It's a national chain and I'm saving money but still. I wish I was closer. And I wish my room had a fridge because just an ice bucket limits one's options and there's not a lot of vegetarian food in Wichita Falls anyway. It's a two-and-half-hour drive from Dallas to Wichita Falls--I could have flown into WF but the flight itself takes more than twice as long as it's not a major airport and the flights get re-routed through other citites so the journey would have actually taken even longer than the flight to Dallas plus the car ride did. The whole time between Dallas and Wichita Falls though I just kept thinking, 'hold on, hold on'--so afraid she'd go before I got there. "If she does," my adoptive mother told me. "Know that she'll be by your side until you reach J." I've seen her twice now. She looks both a million times older and startlingly child-like at the same time. Thin. So, so thin. In bed on her side. Her hair is cropped short--just like in that one picture I have of us together from when I was a baby--but it's gray now, not red. Her eyes no longer have a spark and her skin is pale and cool to the touch. So very cool. The hospice booklet says that's part of the dying process. But she's coherent and we've talked a lot. "Do you have any questions for me?" she's asked several times. And so I keep asking questions. Some of them easler than others. I'm not necessarily getting the answers I want to hear, but the point is I guess that we're talking more than we ever have. I don't know how long she has. I'm supposed to fly home on Tuesday. It hurts to think of leaving although there's not much I can do here other than just be here. To that end, J. asked if I would sit with her tomorrow afternoon for awhile so that he could attend to some things. Of course, of course. Of course. 3:54 pm - 26.09.15
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There are not enough Costco-sized bottles of whiskey in the world - 06.10.15 - 12:28 pm voices carry - 05.10.15 - 3:15 pm Leaving home to come home - 05.10.15 - 11:14 am grateful - 30.09.15 - 4:14 pm things you learn about your biological mother in her final days - 28.09.15 - 8:47 pm |
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