To every thing turn turn turn....

The first thing I thought was, Why didn't I read this when she was dying? After i was halfway through the book I wished I had read it even earlier, before my mom was even sick. That way i would have known how to grieve. I would have had directions, a map to follow so that I could see which way to go.
There were questions that should have been asked. Answers and explanations were missing. There was so much that went unsaid. Even after she died words that went unspoken got backed up and stuck someplace. I'm still bewildered by these piles of things left unsaid. Like log jams stuck high up in a slot canyon, the words all tangled and stuck together,confused. She would look at me and say 'I love you Beck', and I would say ' I love you too Mom". Then there were all these other things that went unsaid.
Are you ready to die? Do you want to go to the hospital and get a tube put in your nose to feed you? Do you want to be poisoned with chemotherapy that may prolong your life for years, or may not? Do you want to go anywhere? Is there something you want to tell me? Oh, so much stuff unsaid.
The day she died my Aunt Jeanie and I had been trying to amuse her and keep her comfortable. After painting toes bright pink, and putting on Vivaldi, Mom relaxed and was snoozing a little bit. all of a sudden she called out my sisters name. "Julie... Julie where are you?" My sister was far away in Florida. She couldn't come out because she had life to live, daughters to take care of.
She had spent a week with us after Mom's first surgery and couldn't come out again. When mom had died, breathed her last quiet breath, I called my sister to tell her that she had died. her response to me was, are you sure? Did you listen to her? I am a nurse and my sister a PA, so often we were able to hide behind clinical verbage and diagnosis and prognosis. Again, so much stuff left unsaid. My sister is my strongest ally now. One huge gift that came about from the death of our Mother.

The book is 'Refuge', by Terry Tempest Williams. I'm learning how to grieve from this book. I'm asking my mom the things I should have, and I'm getting the answers from the mountains and the desert and the moon, and the changing seasons.

Autumn

Waiting for a change. The first chilly morning that smells of dusty warmth as the furnace burns for the first time in months. The October light slants, and casts long shadows in the afternoon. Shivering in the sunshine. I want to wake up to cold cloudy skys and weather. I want to eat hot soup and bundle up in blankets. I want to go for a walk at night and smell woodsmoke and feel chilled. I know that soon enough I will be complaining of cold feet. I will be longing for the deep, dry heat of the Utah desert. For now though, I'm waiting for winter, waiting for change.