Waiting, in confusion

Our mother is dying
No one knows how long this will take
She is still unresponsive
Her eyes have opened a couple of times
That’s all

I went into work and spoke to the manager, who told me to go home. Or go to Argyll. I said I probably wouldn’t go, because I have a respiratory bug, and I’m not sure that my presence would make a difference or help anyone. I tend to turn into an emotional blob at bedside scenes.

Caught up with my colleague when she came in, then walked home via the GP and the bank. Talked to my elder sister TML and later to my younger sister, who is 60 today. I’d sent her a necklace that she’d liked in Whitby last year, and she said that she’d thought about getting one for me too! They are made of upcycled former coins of the realm, by a business called Not The Full Shilling.

I made some calls (work) that were time-sensitive, and did some laundry, then retired to bed, but not to nap. I must stay awake till proper bedtime ! My hacking cough is a lot better today.

I can’t find my mother’s funeral wishes, and to sort out my entire filing cabinet in order to locate them will be a mammoth task. I’ve written down as much as I can remember, which happens to be quite a lot.

Waiting is difficult. I’ve chosen this picture from
The Literary Almanac, which represents the Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison, as it seems to express some of the confusion I, and the central character, are feeling, even though I am not praying for blue eyes!