I've been told that my mother fell and injured her head earlier today and that she's bleeding into her brain, so she's in the intensive care unit at the hospital. My dear, sweet old mom (she's 92 – that's another thing I learned today, I thought she was 84) is 2,000 miles away and I've no means with which to get to her side.  I'm struggling with a feeling of helplessness now. It sucks!
I'm praying to the invisible man in the sky to "please intervene on her behalf and save her life." I'm praying to the ancient CREATOR to fuel her tanks, repair her arteries and veins and keep her among the living. I'm selfishly asking the OMNIPOTENT ONE to send a kindness her way and relieve any pain or fear she may be experiencing, and lift her up from the yawning throat of death. To save her from THE END.
What else can I do? I wonder.
One of my sisters, the closest to Mom all her life, is by her side, so at least I know she's not alone in that sterile hospital room.
This day comes to all of us one way or another. We get the news, if we're lucky, that a loved one is on the brink of death or suffering from a life-threatening injury and, depending on our psychological and/or spiritual reserves, we manage the rush of emotions and thoughts that begin to roar in our heads.
"Mom, hang in there, OK? Please hang in there and LIVE. Because, no matter how frightening the process of disintegration must be, I think you must be able to understand that you're valued and loved and wanted in this world and that you CAN decide to stay." That's what I'd say were I able to whisper in her ear right now.
It's been a topsy-turvy week! My love's nephew and his wife birthed a six-pound baby girl Saturday, and she's beautiful! Crises have been swirling around our household for several weeks now, so the super-charged event of birth had lifted us all above the sucking vortex of depression and fear that seemed to linger just outside the front door.
One thing after another, and now, this. Gack!
Life and death, the two guaranteed experiences presented us all soon as we suck in that first breath of oxygen. What's on the other side, though, of dying? Oy vey!