Monday, June 7, 2010

Her Last Hour

She did not have much longer to live,
I was told by the nurse.
In the blue quiet room, I sat by her bed
and took a good look at her,
whom I had just met.

She was working hard,
my breath no match for the rattle
 inside her throat.
I placed my hand on her sinewy wrist
and left it there. 

I looked around for some clues.
The date on her hospital bracelet
that belied her youthful face.
A picture of her, smiling,
and standing with loved ones.

And most useful,
a card from a friend, with godly words.
Prayers long forgotten,
I had to make up my own words
to let her know that God was with her.

3 comments:

  1. She greets us with face alight with the knowledge that she really does not know what is next, with the smile, I am still alive!
    Constantly refocusing on the body as it is now, instead of leapfrogging in the mind, hopeful that next week will be less painful.

    It was a such a surprise, she really had no time to prepare.
    How would I handle the same circumstance?... goes through my mind, thinking it would be much the same way.

    She, the nurse, who always worried about others first, says she needs to lay down, is finally taking care of her needs now... receiving. I hug her old friend when I say good-bye, and I could feel her holding back her tears... waves of unknowns ripple far.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Ultimately we can only offer stillness.
    I offer it to you.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Thanks to you both, for the depth of your sharing.

    And deep bow.

    ReplyDelete

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