Goodbye?

What a strange feeling, traveling finally to say goodbye. Could it really be the last time I see my mother? After so many years of fighting back her ravaging illness, an ending does not seem possible. Maybe this be like so many other urgent trips taken, only to learn that her vague future will continue on a painfully slow downward spiral.

Something I can't put my finger on says that this is different. Maybe it was the difference in my sister's voice as she described Mom's sudden, rapid aging, in her message meant to prepare me for what I would see. Maybe it is something else that can't be seen or measured, just the dissipating connection of two people whose lives have been intertwined for so long. It is like I can feel my mother' essence ebbing from thousands of miles away. There is no panic or fear in me, just that I need to be with her as soon as I can. Thinking of what to do when I get there is what brings my worry. Will she be the mother or the child? Strong and peaceful or frightened and in need of comfort? This question is the same I have always had so, in that sense, this trip is no different.

I have decided that I will be what she needs me to be. I can do that for her. I realize, as I write this, what life with Mom gave me - the ability to find peace while in the midst of pain and turmoil. That is her gift to me and I will use it, until she and I meet again.