January 25, 2019

My Journey to God

Hospice

I sit here beside your bed
as you turn your face toward the last leg of your journey,
eyes on the light at the end of the tunnel.
Letting go, now…
We spent most of our lives together,
not always “as one,” but mostly.
Held hands.
Argued.
Made up.
Made a home.
Made children,
and raised them up the best we could without directions.
They’re fine.
When I noticed that you were needy,
I gave you everything I could think of;
when you noticed I was needy,
you said, “Come here and sit beside me,”
and patted your hand on the sofa.
Eventually, words became superfluous.
Mostly.
We circled each other in our little world like two atoms,
never dreaming of the day when one would leave.
Well, we knew that, but it wasn’t reality then.
Now, at the end of it,
we’ve finished it up the best we could.
Without directions.
Swore our love.
Apologized.
Cried.
We didn’t know the blessing in being so exhausted
after months of illness and caregiving
that it gets easier to let go and let God.

By Cindy Leppert
 

(Cindy Leppert is a member of St. Christopher Parish in Indianapolis.)

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