Yesterday was likely our last with Mom. Mike's sister Kathleen and her family came down Friday night to visit with mom. They drove nine hours (each way) to visit for mom for just an hour or so. Mark is a minister and had to preach this morning so they had to drive all the way back to Cape Vincent, NY (on the Canadian Border). It was incredibly gracious and a testament to how close mom has become with the McGuire clan.
Katie, Maeve, Andy and I spent some quality time with mom after Mark and Kathleen left, taking a field trip to the Monastery to visit with the Benedictines and to watch Maeve scale the rock wall on the playground (which she calls diamonds). The visit did wonders for Mom's morale. She got to visit with her friends on familiar ground, and to visit a place that was at the heart of Mom and Mike's relationship.
Mom visited the shrine to St. Benedict that Mike refinished right before he became ill. The shrine was built in 1930 and features a gorgeous mosaic of Benedict rendered in an eastern style. The Shrine had fallen into disuse and disrepair over the years. Mike decided to take it on himself to rebuilda gorgeous set of massive oaken doors for the shrine.
The doors stand about 12 feet high and span at least 8-10 feet. Aside from needing a fresh coat of finish, the doors look as good as the day Mike hung them.
Sr. Cecelia, the Prioress at the Monastery told me that Mike's work on the shrine became the catalyst for the "Place of Peace" - a new meditation space, open to all on the Monastery grounds. The P.O.P features a labyrinth, teaching gardens, and a pair of converted grain silos that serve as a wonderful sanctuary from the epic sprawl of the Virginia suburbs. It all started with one guy who decided to use his time and talent to make a place better than he found it, and ended in a place where the community can come and escape traffic, cell phones, and the ubiquitous mcmansions that made me flee NOVA more than ten years ago. It reminded me of the loaves and the fishes - Its amazing how small graces snowball into miracles.
It was great for Mom to get out and do some normal stuff for a few hours, but the heat, humidity and activity wore us all out pretty quickly.
Once we got her back to her room we settled in and took care of some last minute details. We were trying to stall for time. It was time to say goodbye. Katie and Maeve said goodbye – it was hard for me to watch, knowing it was going to be the last time Mom would see her granddaughter. My mind was racing with all the things mom was going to miss. I could tell mom was thinking the same thing, but she took it with grace and acceptance.
Then it came time for me to say my goodbyes. Katie and Andy gave me the room so I could say mine privately. I'm incredibly grateful I had to opportunity to say them while mom is lucid and conscious. I know she's at peace with what is happening to her. I know she isn't in pain, and she's comfortable.
I hope to return before mom passes, but there are no guarantees with this sort of thing, and knowing that nothing has been left unsaid or unfinished is a consolation.
People keep telling me how tragic mom's life has been. They point to the low points, Mike's illness, the house in New York languishing on the market, estrangements with friends and family, etc. I disagree.
A tragic life is a life unfinished; loves and ideas left unspoken, risks never taken, an adherence to well traveled paths. None of this describes mom. Mom's crammed more life into 59 years than most do in 80. So while I'm very sad to loose her, she's at peace and has no regrets. She says she's ready to go, and I believe her.
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