Woolen Memories

Everyone talks about "the present moment."  Living in it, loving it and being aware of are said to be the key ingredients to a happy life.  If that's true, than I am grateful to live this moment.

Dad returned home from the hospital this afternoon and Hospice admitted him five minutes later.  My pulse raced, denial hammered in my head, and I didn't know if I had the strength required to travel this journey with my mother and father.  I still don't know.  Whatever moments present themselves are going to tell the story.

But, tonight as my father lays peacefully in his new hospital bed with his wife sitting next to him offering words of love and comfort, I am witnessing new precious present moments, which are giving me the where-with-all to keep on plugging as their caregiver.  When the words stop, the love continues with a gentle hand on his arm.  I wonder what memories have emerged.  A replay of her present moments with her husband from days past?  Remembering their wedding?  Whatever those moments are they belong to them.  I leave the room.  This moment belongs to them.

Tonight, with a sink full of dishes, a dining room table buried with medical supplies, and enough dust in the house to be mistaken for volcanic ash, I'm knitting a sock.  I hope that demonstration of their love remains in my memory bank long after the scene ends.

The rhythm of the needles calms my fears.  The softness of the yarn running through my fingers reminds me of the thread that ties our lives together.  Every time I look at these socks, I hope I remember these moments buried in each stitch.

It's quiet.  They're safe.  They are together.  That's all that's important in this moment.