Beginnings and endings

This photo of my mom was taken in 2015 when she was still living in Australia. In this photo she is 82 years old  She is just recovering from surgery to have cancer removed from her bowel.

Today she is living in Canada. She is in the last stages of a rare form of cancer called Sister Mary Joseph cancer, a cancer of the colon. She is the colour of the orange on this caftan. She is smaller. Her belly is distended and it's oozing what looks like fresh sausage from her belly button. She said this morning that her life is sleeping, eating, huffing her way to the bathroom, sleeping, sitting in her chair watching television, sleeping, a bit of talking on phone or with someone visiting, sleeping, eating, taking pink pills and blue pills, sleeping, and around again.

She said to the nurse this morning that she is happy. This in itself is a miracle.

She still has a great sense of humour. I'll tell you more as the cycle of her days continue. I'm writing for me. I need to talk.

I read this in Richard Wagamese's book "Embers":

"My mother's physical death taught me that I didn't come here to master devastating situations, circumstances, changes, losses or even my own feelings. I came here to experience them. I came here for soul lessons and spirit teachings so that I could carry on in this wonderful spiritual journey we are all on, this teaching way, this blessing way. So that, in the end, I can, like my mother has done, return to the beauty that I was when I first arrived here."

Oh, wow. I see where I am with my mother. I have not always been understanding or happy with my mother. She has known that. The other day as we were watching television together, she reached over for me and said "we're getting along good now, aren't we?" I said, "yes" and smiled.

Life is so furiously happy and sad at the same time. I now see how she was a beautiful child of the universe when she was born butt first. at home.  A big baby, the youngest of the clan. The wild one. The unruly one. The stubborn one. The independent one.

Her life both hard and brilliant. Yet there never seemed to be any ease. And then this miracle. Her saying to the nurse this morning that she is happy. At Christmas she said it was the best one ever. She is ready to die. She is at peace. This is such a beautiful happening it feels like tears are being pulled out of my heart. She is returning to the beauty of when she first arrived here. If this happens to one, it can happen for all. I have enormous trust in this.