Life is Messy, So is Death

[Guest blog from my sister Gayle]

Not only in the physical aspects, but also in the emotional and spiritual. A battle to the end.

Monday evening was a sacred hour of tender, soul-baring confession. Regret and remembrances of past events and days that come before one's mind at the end. Truly and sincerely confessed without reservation or excuse. A cleansing of the heart. I was the humble listener beside the bed of repentance, and felt a blessed awe at the purity of the moment.

Then the next day dawned, and the fight was on. When I recounted to dear hospice Nurse Christy what my mother said/did, the awful details of which will remain undisclosed, she was truly disturbed. She even spoke of it to her husband, and said to me the next day, "It seems like Satan is trying to take hold of her." Her words, not mine.

In these last few days, anger, fear, and self-pity have had dominion. Of course, in weakness and pain, how understandable it is to give in. Excuses flow easily, defensive thoughts express themselves, abusive moments have their logical reasoning...

Wrestling with God, with family, with self.

The bell that Mama rings when she wants something was going off every 5 to 10 minutes for a few hours. The fight. Goodness was not winning, not even in the running. Vitriol, ramblings, rantings, dictation. More ice, a little more from the comfort kit, and finally rest.

Today, little response and no strength. Prayers over the tortured soul and body. May the battle soon be over.