About Endings

About endings:

the recent theme here has been about endings, death in slow approach - it's not an easy thing to write about and even less so to be reminded of in frequent circumstance. Yet that's my reality as a caregiver right now and yes, it brings an often sadness, but it also serves as mindful notice, a call for tenderness in place of sharpness, to give attention to every detail of a conversation.

to truly listen. 

time is short for all of us, not just the elderly and those with terminal conditions. We were never promised any length of life, and even the best lived years always seem to end too soon. My father is 94 years old and suffering from congestive heart failure, it's progressing, and still we do all we can to hold on. We're not denying death's presence, we're wise to how near it stands by. We're simply living, drawing quality from each moment, and learning still from what lessons life holds. Death offers me a more clear presence with my father, being present to him in ways not imagined before. I find that I bring this presence to more occasions now, listening to subtle aspects of my communications, a fine art of listening to others and my own self as well. 

a family member finds this talk morbid, and I know it is for her - but these are my own moments shared, no one else needs to be present here, none of these words have to be read. I'm writing about endings, and through this I notice how fragile my own life is. It's all a constant ending, everything, magical in its briefness, and even more so in what life then offers. It's all a Shiva's gift of death and continuous new worlds, moment after precious moment. 

so I find myself drawn to write of each new world, and about the ending of the one I hold most dear. Not everyone should read this. Perhaps no one will read at all. I write nothing as an explanation, I'm not asking anyone to understand. I'm writing of the moment, listening to myself, truly so. 

and this is what the moment holds. 

~

Peace, Eric