I feel like a ghoul.
I’m waiting for death. Not with dread but with a sense of anticipation… of needing relief.
The last month has been one of the most physically and emotionally exhausting of my life.
My heart stops when the phone rings. Then, when it isn’t news of my mother’s death, I feel relief and then disappointment.
I want my mother to die….. what a terrible thing to write but it is true.
The crazy half-life we’re leading of waiting and grief and uncertainty is not benefiting anyone. There is no ‘life’ in my mother as she sleeps or stares into space but there is not death either. My children are shunted from one care giver to another, my friends’ generosity is being sorely tested as this whole experience drags on and my sister and I operate in a strange kind of limbo where the strain is making each of us sick.
Death will be a relief yet I feel disloyal for even thinking such a thing.