So many things felt familiar in this piece. First, I love geese. They don't stay through the winter here in Quebec, though; they fly off honking goodbye as they head to warmer territory. Then, in April, they come back, again honking as if they're happy to be back. I always think it's the sweetest sound in the spring, and the saddest one in the autumn.
My mom is in a nursing home (she's 99). When I visit, I help her put on her socks and shoes, or whatever else she needs help with. Like you, it reminds me of having done the same for my kids and my mom having done it for me. The cycle of life! Thanks for sharing this evocative piece.
Your way of being, for lack of a better way of saying it, of the world and then sharing this combination of you and all you’re immersed in like a work of art in words is such a gift.
hauntingly beautiful...had a big loss last year and this gave me all the feels, summoned up the good little things. Thanks for sharing and best wishes to your mom
Regarding those unanswered questions: I asked my mom every single thing i could think of before she died. Then she died and it turned out there were a million more questions. Love the image of helping your mom with her shoes. I had to pluck my mom's chin hairs, and did it as promised. (She'd made me promise to do so when I was, maybe 12.) Sorry to make this all about me, but that's the best kind of writing--you've put down your words and they bring up these universal feelings. Best to you with everything.
tending to another's feet is a sacred act~biblical, healing, loving, caring, timeless~
the end of december, the end of your job, the end of the way you have always imagined your mother; you are suspended in a rarified moment, between life's purposes of practical matters and those of deep heart.....painful but sweet I imagine...
Such a beautiful, moving piece, Deirdre. I especially loved the vivid description of your walking through the parking lot and entering the hospital through three sets of sliding doors, and being greeted by the deflated balloons as curious ghosts. I knew the musician you write about must be Nick Cave – how poignant the touching of hands. I saw Hamnet only a couple of days ago, and the entire movie is made of scenes like this one. I lost someone dear a few months ago, and I totally relate with the dread of hearing someone say 'I'm sorry'.
Thank you Annette and yes it was Nick Cave. I heard him tell that story and I never forgot it. It says all the things you want “I’m sorry” to mean. Thanks so much for reading.
You truly never miss. This felt so heavy and light at the same time. The circular bit of putting on your mom's shoes was just amazing, we're all going and it's a blessing to have someone help us along the way.
Read this while on a train the other day - a commute I’ve been doing more regularly to support family - and didn’t have time to comment. Popping back to say I’ve been thinking of you and your mum, Deirdre. And how the squeeze of a hand can say more than words.
So many things felt familiar in this piece. First, I love geese. They don't stay through the winter here in Quebec, though; they fly off honking goodbye as they head to warmer territory. Then, in April, they come back, again honking as if they're happy to be back. I always think it's the sweetest sound in the spring, and the saddest one in the autumn.
My mom is in a nursing home (she's 99). When I visit, I help her put on her socks and shoes, or whatever else she needs help with. Like you, it reminds me of having done the same for my kids and my mom having done it for me. The cycle of life! Thanks for sharing this evocative piece.
Thank you for reading! And 99, wow, amazing!
Pure Deard. A heavy weight that floats.
Thanks, I like that...floats like a butterfly
Your way of being, for lack of a better way of saying it, of the world and then sharing this combination of you and all you’re immersed in like a work of art in words is such a gift.
Holly wow thank you, that’s so beautiful. 💕
hauntingly beautiful...had a big loss last year and this gave me all the feels, summoned up the good little things. Thanks for sharing and best wishes to your mom
Thanks Will, that means a lot.
Regarding those unanswered questions: I asked my mom every single thing i could think of before she died. Then she died and it turned out there were a million more questions. Love the image of helping your mom with her shoes. I had to pluck my mom's chin hairs, and did it as promised. (She'd made me promise to do so when I was, maybe 12.) Sorry to make this all about me, but that's the best kind of writing--you've put down your words and they bring up these universal feelings. Best to you with everything.
tending to another's feet is a sacred act~biblical, healing, loving, caring, timeless~
the end of december, the end of your job, the end of the way you have always imagined your mother; you are suspended in a rarified moment, between life's purposes of practical matters and those of deep heart.....painful but sweet I imagine...
Love you Deirdie.
💕
Right there with you because you created vivid images with words that reached my heart. Top notch.
❤️
(popping over from WITD's Thursday Thread)
Such a beautiful, moving piece, Deirdre. I especially loved the vivid description of your walking through the parking lot and entering the hospital through three sets of sliding doors, and being greeted by the deflated balloons as curious ghosts. I knew the musician you write about must be Nick Cave – how poignant the touching of hands. I saw Hamnet only a couple of days ago, and the entire movie is made of scenes like this one. I lost someone dear a few months ago, and I totally relate with the dread of hearing someone say 'I'm sorry'.
Thank you Annette and yes it was Nick Cave. I heard him tell that story and I never forgot it. It says all the things you want “I’m sorry” to mean. Thanks so much for reading.
You truly never miss. This felt so heavy and light at the same time. The circular bit of putting on your mom's shoes was just amazing, we're all going and it's a blessing to have someone help us along the way.
💕 I love that, and yes, so true.
Beautiful, Deirdre. The sacred return to tending for our parents the same way they did us. 🫶 life is so circular.
Read this while on a train the other day - a commute I’ve been doing more regularly to support family - and didn’t have time to comment. Popping back to say I’ve been thinking of you and your mum, Deirdre. And how the squeeze of a hand can say more than words.
Thank you so much Wendy. When I heard that description (it was Nick Cave) I just thought how powerful that kind of thing is.
Just know I'm squeezing your hand Deirdre...
Thanks, Susie, I feel it! ❤️
How can you write so moving, touching, intense… loved each line
I’m not sure I know the answer to that Caroll but thank you so much for reading. It means a lot!
This was incredibly moving. Thank you for sharing.
Thanks for reading!