(115: Sadness. Photo © 2009 by Robin)
As I seem incapable of being productive in any domestically meaningful way, I decided to step outside and take some photos of the sunflowers. I am lacking in any sense of direction, wandering aimlessly around the house getting nothing done.
I know some might think it odd that I can take pictures, blog, and post during this overwhelmingly sad time. The only way I can think of to explain it is the way I explained it to my new daughter-in-law after a long hike. Part of the hike involved being on a path that, to me, appeared narrow. The appearance of narrowness was due to being up high on a mountain with an abrupt drop-off. A simple and small wall of rocks or trees have a way of making everything feel safe even if it is not, and that lack of something to hold on to put me in panic mode. The view was magnificent but the panic attack (that old fear of heights rearing its ugly head) made it difficult to appreciate it. I was almost unable to continue with the hike, ready to go back so I wouldn’t have to continue around the turn in the path, fearing that the height and narrowness would somehow increase significantly as I moved further on (a fear of the unknown?).
I took a few deep breaths, turned on my camera, and started taking photos. When we finished the hike, my daughter-in-law mentioned something about how she wouldn’t be able to take pictures while she was in a panic. I explained that taking photos was relaxing for me, an almost meditative thing. It’s something I associate with positive feelings and it calmed me enough that I could continue the hike.
I guess that’s what I’m doing today. Calming myself so I can continue with the hike.
I left a note in the comments section of my last post thanking everyone but thought I should say it again: Thank you all so much for your hugs, thoughts, and prayers. There is comfort there as well.
As of the last update from my sister, there has been no change. One of the nurses suggested that perhaps Mom isn’t really there at this point. It’s just her body fighting to hang on to life. I don’t know. Nobody knows. That’s why everyone has continued to talk to her, hold her hand, and keep some kind of contact with her.
I guess I’ll go give this chore thing another try. Perhaps I’ll actually accomplish something this time.