Two weeks ago today, the cadre of family who were in town, made the trip to the doctor’s office to get the latest “scan results.” We sat together as the doctor told my mother (who was sitting in a wheelchair and holding my father’s hand): “The medicine isn’t working anymore.” We all knew it was coming.
When my mother asked, in slurred speech, “that means I’m dying, then?” the doctor answered “Not today…but yes.”
Hospice contacts were made, and a couple days later, we moved Mom out of rehab and back to her and Dad’s apartment.
When the hospice bed arrived, dad had it set up in their bedroom. We raised it to the same level as “their” bed, and took the inside guard rail down, and now they sleep as they have for more than 56 years…side by side.
My siblings and I have been taking 48-hour shifts, sitting together with Dad through this end-of-this-life journey. Talking about the privilege of it all and noticing all the “thin spaces” between heaven and earth.
Yesterday, my friends Sue and Peter came and visited my folks…Later in the day, Sue emailed me and said that “Tommie is in the narthex of heaven.” (Translation? “Tommie is in the foyer of heaven.”).
Sue is the one who reminded me of “thin spaces.”
I see them everywhere right now.
I see thin spaces in my siblings who have simply been present, daring to walk right into the face of death and carry patient, gentle, exhausted, enduring, no-matter-what love.
I see thin spaces in my children – who climb in bed beside Granny and rub her head and, in their quietest “library voice” tell her about their day, with absolute tenderness and “naturalness” – even though she doesn’t respond. “But, mom she can still hear us.” I see thin spaces when my children sing “Up above my head…I see Jesus in the air…and I really do believe there’s a heaven somewhere.”
I see the thin space between heaven and earth in the choreography that my husband is doing (laundry, cooking, cleaning, homework) – just so I can spend all the time I possibly can in this inexplicably peaceful place – where love is truly, truly being embodied…heavenly…Heavenly…HEAVENLY love.
Mostly, of course, I see the thin space between heaven and earth in the way my father is with my mother (not really much different than he has always been)…wise, gracious, tender, faithful, gentle, intentional, courageous, open, encouraging, soft, strong.
The Hospice Social Worker told us, earlier today, that Mom has about 12-48 hours left in this place.
We are all (my mom and dad and brother and sisters and I) together…Walking mom into resurrection. Letting go as she walks first through the narthex of heaven and then through the thin place of separation and finally into perfect, total no-matter-what, the-end-amen Love.
