Words are like sand when you want to talk of matters close to the heart, they get washed away. Still I am going to sit on the shore of life and write about the water that recedes and takes away the grains of sand that fabricate my life.
My mother's passing away was too sudden, I had no time to hold her hands, mine was not the last voice she heard. I would have loved it to be that.
My father's closure was slow, painful, burdensome. I think I didn't walk with him all the way, I left him alone at certain stretches of his final journey.
I am now holding the hands of my husband's parents in their final years. I don't want to look away a moment, want to remain mindful of their every breath.
I intend to share these precious moments here.
This is very thoughtful. It is tough to see and go through as it tests all the patience . It is also truly melancholic. To parents in their old age , what we can give them are not riches , but our physical presence with them.
ReplyDeleteBoth my parents look for every moment to pass as the day progresses. My father a King of his times does not express any agony and emotion. my mother its the opposite . Every there is some kind of physical pain , focus shifts from one pain to another. We wonder what can give her relief...
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