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Saturday, April 05, 2008
Whatever else is unsure in this stinking dunghill of a world a mother's love is not. ~James Joyce
True in my case, and right now sorrow gathers because Mom is dying. It will be soon. Not soon enough, considering the pain she's endured, and too soon, considering what a horrible tragedy this is going to be. She was thrilled about Paris and beamed over the pictures I showed her. Now, Paris - my little dream that in its planning, experience and immediate aftermath occupied my mind and lifted my spirit in the grim sorrow of finding my brother dead and watching Mom fade away - is a memory. There's only this now. I prayed for her in Notre Dame cathedral, a proxy for her faith. Bought her a little rosary. Her God, not mine. Her Love is mine. She is and has always been a woman of faith, and I hope that sustains her in these last days. But she always had faith in me, too, and now I can only live up to it by giving that to my loved ones, especially Shelley, Alex, Miles and Lily. It's easy to do that, but the rest seems impossible.
Fuck, it's been brutal since 2001. Pete, Dad, Brian, and the million defeats and sorrows surrounding all that loss and all those tears. Friends gone - Hilly, Donna - friendships gone. Dreams evaporated, efforts wasted. It continues. I visited Mom on Wednesday and first took a walk through the old neighborhood. It's not mine anymore... summoning the ghosts was hard. I feel that way about music, too. And a lot of other things. But I got a hell of a welcome from my friends in Paris, and that gave me a lot of smiles to give Mom. I told her of all the exciting plans the trip inspired, and that made her glad. Fact is, those things are very unlikely; those plans were pipe dreams. But I dunno, I guess one thing I can do now is thank all those responsible for those sweet days and nights and the evanescent dreams they granted me and Mom for a little while. I'll thank Mom, too, but not now. She still breathes right now; maybe there's time for another kiss, another embrace. Maybe not.
True in my case, and right now sorrow gathers because Mom is dying. It will be soon. Not soon enough, considering the pain she's endured, and too soon, considering what a horrible tragedy this is going to be. She was thrilled about Paris and beamed over the pictures I showed her. Now, Paris - my little dream that in its planning, experience and immediate aftermath occupied my mind and lifted my spirit in the grim sorrow of finding my brother dead and watching Mom fade away - is a memory. There's only this now. I prayed for her in Notre Dame cathedral, a proxy for her faith. Bought her a little rosary. Her God, not mine. Her Love is mine. She is and has always been a woman of faith, and I hope that sustains her in these last days. But she always had faith in me, too, and now I can only live up to it by giving that to my loved ones, especially Shelley, Alex, Miles and Lily. It's easy to do that, but the rest seems impossible.
Fuck, it's been brutal since 2001. Pete, Dad, Brian, and the million defeats and sorrows surrounding all that loss and all those tears. Friends gone - Hilly, Donna - friendships gone. Dreams evaporated, efforts wasted. It continues. I visited Mom on Wednesday and first took a walk through the old neighborhood. It's not mine anymore... summoning the ghosts was hard. I feel that way about music, too. And a lot of other things. But I got a hell of a welcome from my friends in Paris, and that gave me a lot of smiles to give Mom. I told her of all the exciting plans the trip inspired, and that made her glad. Fact is, those things are very unlikely; those plans were pipe dreams. But I dunno, I guess one thing I can do now is thank all those responsible for those sweet days and nights and the evanescent dreams they granted me and Mom for a little while. I'll thank Mom, too, but not now. She still breathes right now; maybe there's time for another kiss, another embrace. Maybe not.
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