Monday, November 12, 2007

Death Mask

As we are now in the last days of her life, I can't help looking at the calendar, wondering which of the coming dates will be forever changed in my life by the termination of Lynda's. It's more than a morbid thought; it is also a bright indicator of how my perception of time has been disorted by the slow process of my mother's death. There is little to recommed to others in this decline as I have unable to move it, faster or slower it doesn't matter. The inexorabiltiy of the process is not unlike the way an accident unfolds in milliseconds as opposed to days and weeks and months; it all seems so damn slow there is just nothing to do but wait and watch.

So today we came to observe again, Pierre and I, and we found Lynda in a state more removed that ever before. Today it was apparent to us both as we came in that she has gone down even since Saturday. Her face was more drawn and the mouth more gaping. She didn't respond to my voice or my hand when I held hers, and unlike even yesterday, there was no acknowledgment of my presence at all.

It seems like this could be the night tonite, or tomorrow the day. I have taken off from Hudson's in anticipation of the event, and even though I realize it is unlikely that I'll actually be there when she passes, it is something that I've hoped might happen. Now there is a morbid thought, I guess, since what difference it could make is just about zero. This isn't to be taken as a sign that I make no difference, just that I realize we've gotten to the point I've long imagined and dreaded in the one and the same moment.

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