Far far away from my couch...My mission and why I didn't post last week.

LesbosOnTheCouch by Beth C, one of the Lesbos

My Sweet Lord what a week…I must admit, I have spent the past three weeks very far from my couch. I missed my couch so much that upon arrival and return to my humble home, the first thing I did after visiting my shower was sit in our couch until My Love pried me off and rolled me into bed, where I fell asleep even before I was laying down.

I missed our couch…our home.

I did spend some time sitting on another couch – I was visiting a sick loved one -and her couch, although quite soft, came with way too much baggage…Her couch came with a husband who wasn’t too thrilled that My Love came to help me through the tough time on his couch and had us both be introduced as nieces…but that being said- I wasn’t there to see him or to actually sit on his couch…I will therefore refrain from complaining about both him and his couch.

Instead I want to share the finer points of my visit…I want to tell you, because I believe this important and I want to encourage you, to know that it is not to be feared to the point of frozen immobility, I want you all to know that sometimes – if not always, this time can be one of opportunity for sharing in a very special love and sacred moment... I helped a special person in my life put her affairs in order and decide the road she wants to take on her journey from this world. This was and always is a difficult task, maybe the most difficult and meaningful task to share with another, to do for another. There are always other loved ones around not willing to accept decisions and methods, especially when they involve the end of a life on this earth. I believe with all my heart that when the time comes we should all have that final voice, the refusal of yet another chemo or trial drug, the decision to not meet another alternative medicine man or woman, the DNR…I believe this, but that does not mean that when I agree to help with these decisions I do not cry over what that means is down the road.

I also believe that once these decisions are made, ice cream is definitely the best alternative to all and any drastic and exceptional methods of prolonging life. Ice cream under these circumstances is the most wonderful tasting ice cream –filled with silliness and laughter and salty tears.

That brings us to silliness…laughter. What does it mean when we make jokes and laugh when someone we love is dying?  What does it say about us when we allow ourselves to fart out loud just because it can be funny and normal when there is nothing normal happening around the dying person? Her skin is yellow, her body is frail, her strength is gone, and her control is leaving. So my hiccups, my farts, my spilling a bit of water here and there, some crumbs and sacred chocolate ice cream on my shirt – that becomes the normal – the reminder that we all have moments that we are not in control…that losing control can also be a sign of life – of living still, a statement that this process can be normal – and maybe should be more normal. As painful as dying and losing someone we love dearly can be, there can be no denying that there is nothing more normal then life, as we have come to know it, coming to an end.

I write this with wet eyes. I am a believer. I believe in the One who formed the earth and all that dwell upon the land, the sea and fly through the skies. I believe in the One who is benevolent and caring and loving and good. I believe in the life after and reincarnation. I believe. ..But I will miss her…and holding her hand as she slips away from us, telling her I love her and watching her suffer the goodbyes, this is all difficult. And this is all a part of life and the cycle of life and the spiral of our soul to higher ground.