You care in a way I don't. Yes, the poor woman is dying. Yes, I remember her on her wedding day, her gown of apple green silk, and my brother, all dressed up, aspiring for the moment to respectability. I remember their daughter, so like her father. Yes, there's a link, but it's so tenuous; first the marriage went, then my brother.
A great-hearted person would ignore the attenuations, and seize whatever could be grasped of responsibility for the relationship. Clearly it's not me, but just as clearly you, mother.
As you head down south (with my sister) to help in the last hours, making arrangements and simply being present, I think of other trips you've made and phone calls and contributions financial and otherwise, not to mention the anguish you've felt (and shared).
I'm ready to find excuses, but not you. This was your daughter-in-law, your grandchild and great grandchild. You feel the obligation as a compass needle feels the pull of the pole. Loving my grandson is less problematic but no more compelling.
Oh, the issues are complex, overwhelmingly so. My hands are ever ready to be thrown up. But your moral compass is clear: no one should live like this; no one should die like this. You're right: we deserve to be companioned right to the edge, and mourned on the other side-which you will make happen.
There's a certain hardness in me concerning my late brother and everyone associated. I suspect it's a kind of snobbery and nothing to be proud of. You too, mother, know how to be critical, but right now though those things are unimportant; you're on your way.
Sister-in-law, I hardly know how to address you. It's too late to gin up a lot of sentiment. You worked hard but your life has been full of trials, and now this. You're a reserved person, and I'm negligent about relationship maintenance. Our distance is understandable, if not excusable.
Still, you'll have with you soon someone you've opened your heart to, and whose heart has always been open to you. In that encounter God-in-love will surely be present. Blessings upon you both.
A great-hearted person would ignore the attenuations, and seize whatever could be grasped of responsibility for the relationship. Clearly it's not me, but just as clearly you, mother.
As you head down south (with my sister) to help in the last hours, making arrangements and simply being present, I think of other trips you've made and phone calls and contributions financial and otherwise, not to mention the anguish you've felt (and shared).
I'm ready to find excuses, but not you. This was your daughter-in-law, your grandchild and great grandchild. You feel the obligation as a compass needle feels the pull of the pole. Loving my grandson is less problematic but no more compelling.
Oh, the issues are complex, overwhelmingly so. My hands are ever ready to be thrown up. But your moral compass is clear: no one should live like this; no one should die like this. You're right: we deserve to be companioned right to the edge, and mourned on the other side-which you will make happen.
There's a certain hardness in me concerning my late brother and everyone associated. I suspect it's a kind of snobbery and nothing to be proud of. You too, mother, know how to be critical, but right now though those things are unimportant; you're on your way.
Sister-in-law, I hardly know how to address you. It's too late to gin up a lot of sentiment. You worked hard but your life has been full of trials, and now this. You're a reserved person, and I'm negligent about relationship maintenance. Our distance is understandable, if not excusable.
Still, you'll have with you soon someone you've opened your heart to, and whose heart has always been open to you. In that encounter God-in-love will surely be present. Blessings upon you both.
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