Graduation ... from this life on Earth

My mother is home from hospital. I am afraid she will not be here long. For years and years, we have joked about death, and spoken seriously about what she wants to happen to her worldly goods when she dies. We've giggled at the grim idea of an urn on the mantle vs. a public visiting place, the pros and cons of open caskets and so on. We have speculated on what happens when one "graduates" (the euphemism her parents used), and while it has always seemed slightly morbid, we have tried to make it an amusing idea to contemplate. That's what you do when you're raising your children and have a career in the life insurance business..

Until now, that is. Now that the end is terribly clear, I do not want to contemplate it at all. I do not want her to die, and yet the stark alabaster of her previously rose-kissed cheeks shows this inevitable event is undeniable. Worse, it is quite possibly imminent. An earthquake of 9.0 could not have shaken me any more than seeing her tonight.

There were so many things I had wanted to talk about, but I kept them to myself. Now is not the time to talk about the immediate ownership and future ownership plans for my house. We've discussed it before, and if she has decided to make changes that I do not agree with, well ... I guess I will trim my sails accordingly. Right now, I just don't my ship to capsize in this storm. I want to be strong, patient, and kind. I want her to get better from this cancer, and I want to help carry out many more Thanksgivings and Christmases! A long time ago, it felt like a chore, but it has become a warm and welcome tradition.

I wanted to hug her, but dared not to because her immune system has been knocked out by the chemotherapy she endured during her hospital stay. I did not ask about my sister, because of the "atrial fibrulation incident" (i.e., heart attack) that occurred only days ago. I suddenly feel exactly like I did when I was a little girl: the empty, sickening roll of my stomach, churning in time with the words "don't rock the boat. Don't be selfish. Your mother has enough to worry about without also having to worry about you."

I know that my mother loves me, and I know she is also frightened. I can see that she is desperately trying to wrap up any undone business for her clients, not to mention for us, her family. The lack of fight in her voice reminds me of the week before her mother died. Everyone who could get there came to say goodbye while she was also still capable of speaking. My mom's use of Grandma's words are haunting.

"I have lived a full life, full of the love of my family. I know that when I graduate, I will be reunited with those who have passed before me, whom I have missed so much. They will welcome me with open arms, as I will do for you when it is your turn. I am not afraid of dying, as I think it is not an ending, but a transformation from this plane, this consciousness, to another that we cannot even comprehend until we are there."

May it be so, but please ... may it be another year, or two?