Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Waiting on the Angels...

There are people who believe in Angels and then some that don't.  I don't know what to think about giant figures with big wings and chiseled, handsome faces...but I could go with that if I were to run into one.  Tonight though, a family and I are waiting for the Angels.  They are close and the family can feel them in the house.

The day started out with breakfast with a friend.  She is battling breast cancer and looks beautiful while she is doing it.  It was interesting to see her because I have been connected to her on universal levels but haven't sat down with her since May.  She got out of the car and I noticed the scarf on her head.  The one that screamed her name in a market in Nicaragua.  I hadn't thought of her at all during the trip and I saw the scarf and without thinking...bought it.  My son walked up to me and asked, with a puzzled look on his face, "what is that for?"  Without thinking, I said her name and moved on.  Made me realize that while she was not on my mind...she was in my head.  Anyway, she is doing great and fighting the beast and winning and...looking more beautiful than ever.  We talked about how lucky she is...the gifts that she is getting from people in the way of time, friendship and love.  "What life is really about" I said.

On through the day, it rained and hailed and then the sun came out.  That has been the pattern here in lovely Conifer.  My last visit of the day was to a man that is "waiting for the angels".  He is not here but he isn't gone either.  He looks comfortable and his family is with him in the house they have lived in for almost 50 years.  It's his home that he and his wife raised a family, fought the long marriage fights, loved each other through it all and in the next day or so, he will be gone.

When I just graduated college and was in my nursing orientation, my dear friend had a baby at home and I was invited to the birth.  I got off of work to find her in the bedroom with her husband, the family, the midwife and the guests.  She was pacing and the baby was coming.  Finally, after a long afternoon of laboring, the baby was born.  It was a celebration as women cooked in the kitchen and men celebrated the new life and my friend held her newborn to her breast.  It was a holy day and I will never forget it.

I think of death at home like that.  The person labors at times to get to the next level...heaven...if you will and there is usually a sense of joy for as the suffering is finished.  There are also buckets of tears and sadness that is indescribable.  But, when I run into the family 6 months later, the sense of love they felt by caring for their family member/love comforts them in the dark times, because when you love someone for so long...suffering or not...it's hard to say goodbye.

That's what these folks are doing tonight.  Saying everything they have ever wanted to say, giving permission to let go all the while wishing it was all a dream.  But it is real and he is leaving and they are loving him through it.  He knows too, even though he is not quite with us.  He calls out for his girls and when they answer, he settles into the bed and I can see his body relax again.  He's waiting for the Angels or maybe, they are waiting for him.  I think it's the latter...he'll let go when he is ready and not a minute before.

Traveling mercies, my dear friend, thanks for the honor to care for you and  your family at this holy time...See you on the flip side.

Home death, home birth...love and holiness.  Life is some kinda hard...
We'll tawk tommorrow,
I love you all,


Ms. Moon said...

Oh, baby.
I remember.
And I really do think that home birth and home death are sacred and so very, very similar in so many ways.
I love you.

Cynthia said...

Your post here brought back a flood of memories from that long night when we sat by Karl's mom's bedside and waited for the angels. Or rather, exactly as you describe, the angles sat back and patiently allowed Lolita to decide that she had had enough. What a huge blessing to do this at home. I would not trade those memories for anything. Blessed event. You describe it beautifully.

Elizabeth said...

And you're doing a beautiful job -- there and here, helping us to be witnesses.

I loved the Mavis Staples, too --