Monday, September 25, 2017

I've danced around this a bit, but the big thing going on in our lives at the moment is that my mother is dying.

We have her at home, with hospice minding things. They're a godsend, of course. What the ladies and gentlemen of hospice care do for us every day is truly the work of saints.

The heavy lifting, though. They can't do that for us.

It's part of life, this time at the end. One way or another, we all come to the clearing at the end of the path. I'm just glad that my wife and daughter and I are in a position to be here for my mother and her husband.

It's a rough thing. But at the same time, I can't help thinking of the stories, especially from the late 19th century. Every family seemed to have a grandfather, or more often grandmother, who had 'taken to their bed'.

If you've seen Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, the Gene Wilder version of the movie, then you'll remember the scene where Charlie goes home to what seems like half the family on pallets under blankets. Waiting for the end.

Roald Dahl in the story, and the creators of the movie, do a wonderful job of showing what a good thing hope is for the family. The impact it has.

I've been through something like this a time or two before. Great-grandparents, grandparents. That particular sort of magic doesn't much apply.

But that doesn't mean the hope isn't there. Magic just occasionally takes a little different form. Not the one we imagine, or wish for.

Just the one we need.

I'm gonna make sure I give my daughter a kiss, more often than I might otherwise have. And my wife, and most of all my mother. I think they'll need it, over these next few days as we approach the end of this particular path.

And I know I'll need it more than they do. It's amazing where you can find magic, when you're not looking for it.

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