I write this in that space so very many of us have been before. The waiting space. The one between worlds, between veils. It’s imminent, yet all of us are still on a hair’s breadth. Waiting. Wishing it wasn’t so but on our haunches ready to accept the inevitable.
I’ve done death before. I’ve done between veils before. Heck, I’ve even done there and back again! But not as close to home as this. Not when I knew it was coming either.
Tomorrow I do the drive again. My bag is permanently packed now. But this time, I will probably not have a coherent conversation with my stepmother. The hours and hours of contemplative, making-up-for-lost-time, soul enriching chats we have had with each other since her condition became known in November have fuelled me.
On Sunday night, more loose ends were tied in neat bows. I knew, she knew and Dad knew – somewhere in the background there while we were thick as thieves in her office of full, high bookshelves and creative whorls of energy – that the more bows we tied, the more ties to life were cut. I opened the covers of books she pointed out on her bookshelf and told her to write in them. Write to her grandchildren. We only got so far. But it will have to be far enough.
I have taken charge of her beloved Green Oil. I cannot quite believe it is now under my roof. Under my care. The Green Oil is a wondrous potion – many of you probably know of it, know the name or have experienced the healing quality of it (when applied to anything from tinea to mosquito itches) – and her particular original Mother batch is now in my den. The baton has been passed. It is my honour and my duty to pick up where this quite incredible woman left off. She would be so angry at me for writing that. Praise is not her “thing” and she said to me as recently as this past Sunday – when I told her for the longest time I had held her in such high regard – that she was not happy and almost offended by that because she had (what she thought was) painstakingly ensured she was not seen as the creator of this amazing legacy.
Her knowledge of plants is not gone along with her. She has shared it every which way before she has left. Even in the years we were not on speaking terms, no visit into my garden for any length of time – not one – was undertaken without her voice reminding me of long-ago wisdom on how to tend a plant, care for it, learn from it, appreciate it. Where the garden faeries live. Where the wonder and beauty is to be found in the smallest, most seemingly insignificant of weeds. I cannot properly articulate how interesting and life giving her contribution to a vast body of work has been that I (and many others) have been privileged to study. What she has left undone she has passed now to me to study, learn, intuit, interpret and complete. I’m still agape and agog and in awe at how I will possibly do this (and do it anywhere near credit). And I have probably just alienated my remaining readers of this blog by even writing all of this.
But there you have it. Main spiritual task for 2013 has been set. I am going to be learning from the Plant kindgom where my stepmother was up to. I’m ready. I hope she continues to help and guide me. But mostly, I feel I am back in true service after quite a long lull. It’s not that I didn’t already have great purpose before, but this is a renewal of life-giving energy for me that had become depleted by simply “living the daily grind”.
This is the beautiful thing about death. It enlivens the living.
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This is the beautiful thing about death. It enlivens the living.
And with that, you have given me a gift.
The candle it lit. In more ways than one. xox
THank God for you. That’s all I can say.
Death – so final and yet not. Strange to adjust to it either way.
It’s not that they’re ‘gone’ but that they are still not here.
My SIL left us last October – living interstate for 10 years I’m used to her not being close physically – but she’s still ‘gone’. Still a struggle.
Smooth travelling to your MIL.
And to you.
Very sad. I’m sorry to hear that, Steph. xxxx
Much love K. Gather your strength whenever and from whomever you can. xxx
That I will. Thank you, dear one.
My beautiful friend, your writing takes my breath away. You find the best and the love and the joy in everything and I love it that you share that with me. Oh, and I love you and there is a candle lit here too xxxx
Thank you. Mine will be lit for some time to come.
Waiting is awful, waiting without hope is worse. She sounds quite remarkable.
Thinking of you and hope together as a family there is a strength found deep inside to drag you through this time. xx
I don’t know how she did it. But she was unwavering. Unflinching. And in the end, she went so fast that she baffled the experts in their field.
Sometimes you experience those moments where cliches really do seem amazingly fitting, like “when one window closes, another opens”. That’s what I thought of when I read this and wow, what a window has been opened for you
I’m TOTALLY up for Mother Superiorisms. Bring it.
Oh my lovely friend, I hear your pain in this waiting time….and yet I read your joy in the experience you’re having in this “passing on of life’s treasures” from your step mother and the ways already you are honouring her. Be gentle with yourself too as you tread this path now. Love D xx
Yes. Thank you so much, Denyse.
What a gift! And I have no doubt that this knowledge will continue to flourish under your care.
Very interested to learn more in time.
Blessings for you and your family, especially your stepmum as she starts a new journey.
Such sadness and joy together. xx
I was feeling excited, but it’s been buried for the time being. Once the fog lifts, the exuberance and new life will really be revealed. xo
In an odd way such times as these are the most special and of the most value… because time and life are finally plainly inseperable, the fleetingness of both and yet the deep richness despite the brevity. Hugs. x
You sound like you’ve done this before… xxo
Kirrily,
the gifts that you receive are the gifts that you will give.
Courage! Heart! Nurture and Peace!
Blessings
Thank you xxx I am going to take you up on that raincheck soon. One day.
Oh Kirrily I had no idea. Much love and strength to you and your family.
Love & stuff
Mrs M
Thank you, much appreciated xx
“This is the beautiful thing about death. It enlivens the living”
This. So so much this.
the last week and a half death has been a visitor in my house. 3 people – all in different seasons in their lives, two suddenly, one, finally.
I have been in a state of retrospection. now, I surrender myself to what is the cycle of life. and embrace the lesson I have learnt.
Much love to you hun, and I hope someone is standing beside you, as you stand beside your dad, and stepmum. xxx
It is a wondrous thing, retrospection, the cycle of life, the minutiae (oh bugger it, I can never spell it…). It’s just so horrendous to go through the pain to see the gifts.
[...] weeks went by and I was distracted by the busyness of occupying all spare space I had with my dying stepmother. Recently, I was interested to discover amongst her many things a document on verbal abuse. Many [...]