I found her in there, along one of those endless spider leg corridors radiating from a central nursing hub. In her “home” surrounded by vestiges of her life tacked up as photos on her walls, She sat surrounded by a gaggle of chittering octogenarian handmaidens. It appeared she was having scant endurance of their ministrations.
Sitting up bare-toed (They have to breathe, you know) she appeared as a frail, tired, ravaged and slumping splat of humanity. She did not first recognize me in spite of our close history. But when I spoke my name, she brightened, smiled and exclaimed, “Jerry,... my Jerry!” While the harpies chortled, “This is Jerry, the boyfriend, oh how nice to met you !”
They finally found other pressing business and, with a flurry of platitudes, took leave.
Now, Erane and I freely talked as friends. She kept nodding off but would awake at my voice, responding she was not tired. I spoke disbelief of her feint. She sighed and related that she is finished; at her desired end. I sensed this was a mind yearning to wander free, to leave this leukemic body of 93 years behind. Now her shell was just a constraint, one she felt trapped within. I asked her directly “ Are you ready to die?”.
“Yes”, she told me in her weak but convicted voice.
"There is no family left, nothing more I want to do, and the loneliness, the ever present loneliness drains me. I want release.”
She is not in pain and they are kind to her in this place of endings. Her home is filled with nursing compassion, and friends bring concern... but love has left her life.
This day was so about saying goodbye. Erane said to me “I love you, we have had so very many good times.”
I kissed her what we both knew was probably our last time, and I left, tears withheld until out of her sight.
My words tore away from inside me “Dear Erane, I so hope for your Peace. You have been such a special lady to me. ”
I drove home from this agonizing day.
No comments:
Post a Comment