07-08-09
The quandary of cutting a parent away too soon, or anything/anyone really, too soon, clinging too long, distorting what it meant in your soul and heart. Cutting and running too soon to the eyes of all and to the eyes within you, all of that dross and crap (interior and ext) are the most annoyingly sharp and critical.
And often wrong.
The quandary of coordinating all your own hopes and perceived inadequacies with those we love, and who depend upon us, no matter what the fantasy of what they say. She says.
You see the realities and she sees nearly only pure fantasy. And I was the one who was the "daydreamer" with my "head in the clouds."
But, now her perception is cloudy as the cataracts upon on her eyes, cloudy in vision and mental vision. Seeing horror and pain and divisiveness everywhere, that's truly the hard part, when the mind turns away lost.
Recognition isn't lost, but her knowing is gone. And with it a part of my security in who I was, when she was strong.
--upon dementia and life's bright strength waning
Neale Sourna
No comments:
Post a Comment