Goodbye, Bwudda

Loren is gone. He left this morning and I miss him already. He was so attentive to Mama. They listened to their favorite radio propaganda together, sat outside together, watched Fox News Channel together, talked together. Yesterday, when I wheeled Mom out from her third of four naps, Loren was not stationed on the couch. Mom said, "Where's the boy?" I asked, "Which one?" She replied, "The big one!" Mama loves her boy. I love him too.

Even the presence of her favorite child could not slow Mom's downward spiral. During Loren's visit, he observed she slept more and more so that by the end of his week here, she was awake for less than 8 hours a day. Sometimes the urine in her catheter tube is red. Not pink, red. And she is weary, so weary. The sobering thing is, this is as good as it gets for Mom. The golden boy by her side for a week, attending to her every request, making her so happy. I figure it's the downhill slide from here.

Everytime Mom gets up, it takes a supreme effort. Yesterday as she lay her weary body down for a change and a nap, Mom exclaimed how good her bed felt and said, "One of these times, I won't get out of bed again." And it struck me that as tired as she is, when that time comes, she will want to stay in bed. All this time, in my mind she would be trapped in bed. In reality, it will be a temporarily welcomed respite.

I don't think bedbound is far away. And I don't think heaven is much beyond that. Praying for mercy, grace, and peace.

Postscript: And then, I change her after her noonish nap. Before I even get the bed lowered, Mom asks, "Is there any pear sauce left?" That woman! She's not quite done here yet.