Marie

We took her out of Westminster House for a short walk. Although they treat her well at the Old Folk's home, she's stuck inside , doors locked. Her hearing is terrible, confusion consumes her mind ,she doesn't leave her wheelchair anymore. She still remembers me, not in the way she used to, but still after a few minutes of staring me in the eye a glimmer of light appears in her lack lustre eyes and she recognises me. Oh , it's Margret haven't seen you for a long time. Forgetting our last visit but still holding on to our past, her world keeps getting smaller. Its a frightful thing to not remember. Did she just visit the bathroom? Or? How did you fall Margret? It happened where? Do you have pain? Tell me again. Still thinking of others even though she can't take care of herself. It doesn't matter, repetition is always part of our visit, and as long as I can bring joy to her day if only for a minute , I visit, I talk, I love on her. Others in the home are not so fortunate. They are forgotten , somebody else's burden, nobody ever comes to visit. Seems like this kind old lady doesn't deserve such life. But we can't choose our walk in life anymore than we can create a sunny day. It's makes me sad when I visit . But it's not about me. Visiting the care home you come face to face with people walking the last days of their lives. Our days are all numbered, but in the everyday hub of life the end of our life is not our focus point. I struggle with the letting go of life that does not belong to me but God and the holding tight to life because I'd like just one more birthday, one more Christmas, one more vacation. For now it's not time to say goodbye. For now I'll have one more visit. One more celebration...one more time...