The days leading up to Wednesday seemed like catching fireflies on a summer night. They'd blink sporadically, giving direction. We'd run towards it certain we're near. Eyes wide, we'd wait for another sign, another direction in which to run with arms outstretched, hands open waiting for the chance to catch the light and watch it beam in our hands---only to let go. We'd run, and wait.
For the weeks leading up to mom's passing, it seemed we were chasing fireflies, clinging to their luminance if only temporary. One day it seemed skilled nursing was optimal; so quickly tides changed to reveal hospice as a likely candidate. Then, the lightning bug moved too fast even for hospice to catch. She wasn't one to be caught anyway--not her care plan, not her essence. We stayed true to her path as long as we could keep up and waited for her light to give direction. She led us to where she was--peaceful, content, ready to be caught--and we held her in gentle hands for her final moments, after all.
As I walk through life, there will be flashes of mom much like a lightning bug--moments where she feels like she's holding my hand, moments where she's whispering "I love you sweetheart", moments where she's just out of reach. I'll rely on those moments just the same to give me direction, looking in the open night for another moment where I might see her again...
I miss you Mom.
E
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