Thursday, Nov. 25, 2004
10 a.m.

It is grey out here. So grey. But mild and moist, which I like. Still, it could be a long winter if we don't get some sunshine more often.

Mom is having abdominal pain and nausea, and Dad is joining her in getting depressed, so right now my biggest concerns are for the two of them. I am there to listen and there to do what I can, but feel pretty helpless. Mom asked Dad to call me Sunday and ask me to come and spend the night, as she'd been having a very rough day. I found my two sisters there watching a movie, so was surprised that Mom had called me. When I went into her room, where she was in bed, she said "I just wanted you" and started to cry, saying "I'm such a big baby." She hadn't been able to sleep most of the day and could get no relief. I worked her feet and hands and brought her some morphine tablets (more than she wanted but I pushed her to take them) and she seemed to settle down and get to sleep, finally. The foot massages relax her, she says.

It feels like I am the mother and she is the child. I kiss her tears and call her "little girl" and try to gather her up in my arms.

Then I go sit with my dad in front of the TV. He is drinking rye and water from a small wine goblet, and tells me again that he doesn't hold out hope for Mom's survival, that he expects her death to be sooner rather than later, that she is his best friend, that she is such a good person it should be him instead of her, he has done and thought things he feels so bad about. He cries, which I have never seen, and I tell him these are normal feelings and he has been a good husband and friend to her and he is doing as well as can be expected under these circumstances... very well in fact, though he may not realize it. I hope the next day he is not embarrassed to have shown me his vulnerability. I feel honoured by both of them needing and trusting me.

And that's where things are at with me. When I wake up in the night, it's to find Mom and Dad on my mind. I haven't been there since Monday morning, though we speak on the phone each day and they know they have only to say they want me and I will go over. Joan has been there, and Karen. I'm picking Mom up from her clinic treatment today and will spend the afternoon with them. Dad's aunt is flying in from northern Alberta and I hope her company will do him some good.

Scott is here and I am very happy about that, I don't feel so alone now, the house seems warmer and the boys, especially Everett (or at least it is noticeable with him), are glad that he's here too.

So I must get myself presentable and prepared to get going. I've been putting in a lot of working hours at the computer this week and want to squeeze some more time in before I leave, since I won't be home till this evening. I've had no time to write much, might even copy this letter into the journal, kill two birds with one stone. I haven't had much time to write lately, and very little time alone.

I remember when your friend had the brain tumour wasn't it and was in the Edmonton cancer clinic. She was one of the first people I practised healing visualization on. When I had finished, I had her pictured in my mind, and beside her was her guardian angel. Before I "left" her I asked him/her (I don't remember now) to cure her and the guardian angel shook his/her head, as if to tell me that your friend was going to die. I remember being angry, thinking "Then what am I putting the effort into this for, if she's just going to die anyway?" It was my first lesson in this kind of spiritual work -- that we don't get to decide another person's life -- or death -- path. We don't have the power over life and death, no matter how faithful we are at our healing practices.

Well I'll go. I'm doing all right, really. I started doing hatha yoga again at the beginning of the month and the core of strength is already making itself felt.

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