It is time

The night watch has become the death watch. Chelsea’s breathing is very labored, she is no longer speaking, all the stages we were told to expect we are experiencing.

Death has not come quietly to this house. It is loud, it is explosive, yet all of us gathered are quiet. Things are peaceful, as we’ve told her she can go now. All her tasks are completed, her children will be taken care of by this large family, and her impending passing has even healed some old wounds between those she loves.

I’ve spent the day preparing… mostly, just creating reasons to be busy. So, I did this.

And this.

I’ve spent the last few days immersed in family pictures because the visage I see now isn’t “her”. She was loud, vibrant, full of love… what is left is her strength and I’ll even say her stubbornness. She doesn’t want to go. She has fought long and hard to stay with us and now she is having a hard time letting go.

Kai is meditating for us now. Earlier today, I played chanting by Goenkaji. A man I never met but who helped me change my life and his voice is comforting to me. I haven’t meditated today except to spread metta to those in this home.

I was compelled to begin writing this and now I’m lost. Lost for words. This still feels surreal. To me, there is no world in which she doesn’t exist… where I can’t pick up the phone… where she won’t yell at me for something ridiculous. In her final hurrah today, she stood up and pushed her way into the kitchen past 3 grown men, 2 female nurses, and me. She pushed me hard to get where she wanted to go… which was nowhere but the kitchen.

I have an obituary to write in the coming days… but what do you say of such a powerful force in this world? It’s like trying to adequately sum up a massive wave in the ocean. One of many but so distinct.

I’m not going to force the words tonight. The sun will begin to rise soon. It’s odd to think:

this is the day my sister will die.