On a whim I used my iPhone to record my Mom as I sat by her bed. She couldn't respond to me but I wanted to bring something back to my siblings so they could feel like they were there with me. I recorded my hand holding and stroking her hand as they were the one thing that remained familiar to me. I panned the iPhone eye up to record her face and then back to my hand holding hers while my thumb stroked across her 85 year old knuckles. I did not realize that I was capturing her last moments of life. That a few hours later she would slip away from this world.
Now I find myself playing that video over and over. It is infinetly precious to me.
LV and I went for a walk yesterday, into the heart of the village Ajijic. The place my Mother had made her home for the past 15 years.
The walk was laborious as the streets were made of large rock cobblestone. But the views...beautiful.
The Mexican people love color. All the houses from grand to shacks were painted in warm yellows, greens, reds and blues.
Red, orange and purple flowers crawled up and peeked over colored stucco walls while large cactus stood as prickly sentries.
It was a mix of old world and new. A Mercedes zoomed by us, as the dust settled an old man in a horse drawn cart clomped past.
We sat and had dinner at a little restaurant/bar along the shore of Lake Chapala. We sat outside on leather woven chairs and sipped our drinks at a tiny table covered with a festive Mexican table cloth.
We feasted on fresh guacamole, warm tortillas and melted cheese appetizers. Then gorged ourselves on steak strips, melted cheese and onion pieces that simmering in bubbling mexican sauce served in a large volcanic rock bowl.
For awhile the grief was pushed backwards and my mind fought hard to push through the numbness that has held it prisoner. It was a welcome respite.
We took our time and ambled slowly back to our hotel. Tired and dusty we plunked on the bed and rested our weary bodies.
I am thankful for the momentary peace. And for my wonderful LV who pushed past my fears and talked me into taking Chanda. (my beloved camera).
Today I went to her little home. The world was frozen in time while I walked amongst her things. Schedule reminders. An unfinished book. Her glasses lay amongst her notes on her desk. And pictures...in every crevice. Of her home in Holland. Us kids growing up. Silly nicknacks. The only sound while I walked around in what had been her life--was the ticking of her kitchen clock. I stared at it angrily. How dare it keep ticking after her heartbeat had stopped. The memory of stroking her face before the funeral man took her away was still brutally etched in my mind.
I found notes to us kids. One in a pretty chest by her kitchen willing it to me. "To (me), the best daughter a mom could ever have"
I felt my insides tremble--my inner batteries faulter as my strength waned.
Lord V called softly to me to stop. To let it go for today.
So I did. And I am. Recharging--to begin again tomorrow.