Final Gift

And after all, perhaps the final
gift is tenderness.
The faith to love on the
edge of broken parts.
Faith...when all we have is
no clear end,
only the ache of uncertainty.
Yet still we
reach
towards the jagged edge that's
sure to cut and we bleed
our touch in a tender
offering of
hope,
despair, and maybe something
more we can't name,
but know in silent
moments.
Perhaps the final gift is not
blood...but our
ability to
bleed and bleed
some
more when all we wish for is
dried away and still we
bleed more.
Perhaps the final gift is
this, these blood
soaked tears....when it's all we
have to offer.

 

 

 

 

                                                                                                       ~

 

I wrote this a few years ago during a time when it seemed all I held dear was slipping though my grip no matter how tightly I held and how many tears I offered in fear and prayerful regret. And that too was the problem and cause of anguish. The loss of my mother through years of Alzheimer's - watching layers of identity being discarded in what seemed like such a cruel and heartless manner left me raw and bare to the very bones of my existence. Yet my mother didn't fight, she was beyond fighting. She surrendered. She surrendered to grace. Yes, she still struggled. No one gives up their self easily. But every struggles came with a continuing gift of allowing life to be lived in the only moment we are ever offered - now. A surrendering of past opens up the present to be lived with awareness. This was my mothers final gift. And as my life continued to unravel during the painful years that followed - it was this gift alone that offered comfort, It still does.

 

Peace,

Eric