Blog
In the Aftermath
I laid my head down on my arms, closing my eyes for just a minute, listening to the jagged breaths of my mother-in-law in the little room in the hospice wing of McKee Hospital. The last week had been exhausting; a week of intense emotions, phone calls, arrangements, vigils. But now a wave of peace washed over me, and I was aware only of the absolute silence in the room. I imagined I saw a bird flying in a cerulean sky, swirling up into the bright orb of the sun.
I heard the familiar footsteps of my husband and brother-in-law as they entered the room. And then the words, “She’s gone.”
“How did I miss it?” I asked myself, sitting not more than two feet from her bedside. And then I knew. I hadn’t missed it. That bird flying toward the sun, that was her spirit, finally set free from the cage of her body, the tether of her mind.
That night I listened to the Enya CD that Joan loved and painted. I thought of her life; her joys and her sorrows. The painting took many twists and turns, from literal to abstract interpretations.
Who can say where the road goes,
Where the day flows, only time?
And who can say if your love grows,
As your hearth chose, only time?
Who can say why your heart sights,
As your live flies, only time?
And who can say why your heart cries
when your love lies, only time?
Who can say when the roads meet,
That love might be, in your heart?
and who can say when the day sleeps,
and the night keeps all your heart?
Night keeps all your heart.....
Who can say if your love grows,
As your heart chose, only time?
And who can say where the road goes
Where the day flows, only time?
Who knows? Only time
Who knows? Only time
© Enya
Somewhere between the known and the unknown, this painting emerged and I knew it expressed my feelings, in the aftermath.
