Tuesday, June 30, 2009

LISTEN AND YOU WILL HEAR

We are on vacation. We are on a ship. Me, hubby, kids, my Mom and my in-laws. It is the last day of our last vacation together. It is our last vacation 'together' because I know my Mom will be leaving us soon. She already looks like death: her shrinking stature, colorless skin and sunken in eyes.

Suddenly there is distress and we have to evacuate the boat. I secure my children's life jackets in a hurry so that I still have time to help my weak Mom with hers. This happens every time. My subconscious is still trying to save her. I want every hour, minute and even second possible with her even if it's not like it used to be.

We pile on a raft and navigate the flotsam and jetsam in our path to the only relief in sight...an iceberg. Sinking ship to frozen, barren iceberg - we have just gone seemingly from bad to worse and this is causing me to panic. How will I protect my children? How will I shelter my Mom?

The suddenly sharp ringing wind chime outside one of my bedroom windows startles me awake and my rising panic turns to peace as their melodic clanging echoes in my ear. These chimes hung on my Mom's front porch until, well...not long ago. Just this weekend my husband hung them where I am able to hear them and to feel my Mom's presence when I need to most.

I know I have to stop worrying about whether or not I did enough, but I need permission from her. She is my Mom...after all, and I will always listen to whatever she tells me whenever I can hear her. This morning, I heard her loud and clear.

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