Back to the Soil
Gosh, it’s gotten so green. This sudden burst of energy on the planet gives me a sense of awakening, but also of nostalgia that makes me feel inward and pensive. I don’t know why, but at this time of year I want to escape to a small, enclosed garden by myself with a notebook and pen, a few good books and the knowledge that I won’t be interrupted. Mama needs a vacation.
Chris’ dad had a stroke yesterday, was in a coma at home for half of the day, but came out of it when the EMTs tried to transfer him to a board to get him downstairs to the ambulance. He’s in the hospice ward at city hospital now, paralyzed on the left side. It’s so strange to be thinking of death standing by while the whole world around me is bursting with new life.
I’m making the effort to stay present to what’s in front of me. To face it openly, instead of checking out the back door into my imagination like I want to. It’s going to get bumpy here, and I hope I can rise to the occasion and be of help. The situation with my father in-law is not good. He’s absolutely in the end stages of cirrhosis (genetic, his mother died of the same disease), and I hope for my mother in-law’s sake that this is it, that he won’t be coming home again. She’s struggling and it’s been a huge challenge to be there to help her out because he is so difficult to be around. I’m skating around it all because it feels so dangerous to badmouth the nearly dead. But I can only say what I know, which is that he’s one of angriest people I’ve ever known, and witnessing his behavior over the years, I’m frankly, all out of sympathy.
At the same time I try to remember that some light lives within him, too. That he did the best he could, and all of that, whether I think it was good enough or not.
But the big wheel keeps on turning, right?
I thought this Tansy might not make it, but look at the green fronds waving beneath the skeletal remains of last year’s plant.
The earth beckons endlessly.
Technorati Tags: life and death, spring, garden, consciousness
"Stories open up new paths, sometimes send us back to old ones, and close off still others. Telling and listening to stories we too imaginatively walk down those paths – paths of longing, paths of hope, paths of desperation."
~Arthur Kleinman
May 3rd, 2007 at 7:10 am
Wow. Thanks for putting words to the nebulous feelings I’ve had over the last couple of days, with my father also in the hospital for a pulmonary embolism. We also have had some rough times, him doing the best he could, and sometimes not so much. I will be thinking of you and your family.
May 3rd, 2007 at 7:26 am
Oh Kelly, I’m so sorry. I blogged about this a few weeks ago: the difficulty of difficult people dying. I’m thinking of you.
May 3rd, 2007 at 10:07 am
Love your hosta photo. Great Blog. Big wheel does keep on turning, exactly. And it helps to focus on the endless capacity this world has for renewal. I am simply amazed every single spring. Thanks for visiting my blog.
May 4th, 2007 at 12:48 pm
I realize how unpopular a view it is, but I don’t see why a person dying allows them graces they don’t deserve. I mean, I can’t speak for Chris’ dad. But I mean in general. I was sad when my Grandpa died but there’s no denying that he was a first class asshole and a horrifyingly racist, republican, and mean human being most of the time. I really don’t see any need to sugar coat it or say only nice things about him now that he’s gone. After all, it’s what we were all thinking, if not actually saying, while he was alive and being cruel to the people who loved him.
The reason I was sad is that despite his rather dark character, he had another side, as so many people do. He loved poetry (though he would never really actually ADMIT it.) I have fond memories of him and I sitting together on my mother’s deck drinking some wine and him reading passages out of Homer. When he wasn’t busy making trouble, he was actually funny, sharp, and had a kind of charm.
It’s just strange how we talk about people differently, more reverently, when they’re dead even if they didn’t live a life that inspired other people’s respect. A person always seems to improve after death. I am no angel of a person, and while I certainly hope that when I’m dead people will remember the good in me, I will haunt them for an eternity if they talk about me like I was something more perfect than I was. I want people to feel free to say things like “She was a real shit about semantics, but she made a mean quiche!”
Well that was a real ramble! I hope that Chris and his mom are finding ways to get through this difficult time. It’s a strange and challenging transition you are all experiencing right now. My thoughts are with you all!