Slipping

My mother is slipping slowly now.   She has no sense of the real world around her.   Yesterday, she told my sister that she is flying.   When sis asked her where she’s flying to, Mother answered, “To heaven.”

I find myself in this strange world that my wife Phoebe calls, simply, a death watch.   I’m supervising two student teachers, so, fortunately, my job is not too demanding right now.   They’re teaching most of my classes today. But it’s strange and sad.   It has a kind of rhythm,a kind of schedule.

I go to work, check on my student teachers, leave them with the class, go to a near-by office, remember my mother is dying, cry a little, have lunch, think of mother, cry, come home, call Sis, see if Mother died, cry some more …

Friday, I took off work because I just couldn’t deal with it.

So that’s my life.   I thank God for those hours when I just forget.   Like last night, when we went to a play.  Strange… I can’t remember the name of the play….

She could die tomorrow, or it could go on like this for months.

My greatest prayer is that she comes to a peaceful end.   That she doesn’t suffer.

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Filed under: John Samuel Tieman, Prose