Swirling Thoughts

Going through mom's worldly posessions is an interesting adventure. I don't like some of it. Like the tray of perfume bottles. Some of the perfumes are OLD and they stink. But of course, that's personal preference. She does have a scent that I like; it's a newer one. Some of the bottles are pretty and there is one, Shalimar, that dad bought her once upon a romantic time. I may keep that one to remember. Remember. Remember. Memories from childhood are not clear to me, and some of the few I remember are not enjoyable ones to dig back up. The bottle that is nearly empty of Shalimar will be a nice one, I suppose. And, thankfully, our recent time spent together has been a blessing; full of love and appreciation. I told her in a coherent moment the other day, that these moments more than make up for the difficulties of the past. She wasn't a kind and loving mother to me, but now she has been ~ since she's finally gotten to KNOW me after all these years.

We held each other and cried. I have wiped many tears from her precious, steely blue eyes that used to scare me to death. Now, I sit and gaze at her, willing her to be awake so I can see her eyes. I feel like I know her eyes better than ever...all the expression in the one good one, and the blank blindness in the other one that was destroyed in a careless surgery. She can no longer wipe the tears from mine as she is weaker and slips into deeper morphine sleep.

Oh, dear Jesus, my head hurts as the remembering, the memories, the precious times with mom, her sickness brings so much emotion and heartache and tears.

We are precious in your sight. You said so. And I believe you. Take all of our tears and replenish the ocean with them, because that's where mom wants her ashes to be scattered.