I am back at the hospital. I flew in this morning.
I am in the room with my other sister, Kathy. Vicky is floating above her bed. I noticed this right away when I came in. I look around to see if anyone else notices. My sister is talking to me about Vicky but not about Vicky floating. The nurse is adjusting lines and dials and beeps and seems unperturbed. Vicky is drifting a little to and fro. Rocking a little. She is held in place by all the IVs and tubes and wires that they have attached to her. She can float no higher than the shortest of these lines. She is not straining at these ties, but I make sure the window is closed anyway. It is a fine if cold day with a bright blue sky.
Last time I was here I took a small smooth pebble from the hospital chapel. The pebble reminded me as I went about my day, and dug in my pocket from time to time, about Vicky and where she was and what she was going through. I carried that pebble for several weeks. It started out small and light and easy. It got heavier with each passing day until it became impossible to carry.
By my front door, back in Colorado, I have a small granite Buddha that sits on a pile of rocks under a ponderosa pine tree. His hands lay gently one in the other and make a small cup. I placed Vicky’s pebble there, in his hands, and what was crushing to me is easy for the Buddha to hold. That immense white stone as heavy as the universe lies gently on his palms.
Vicky is tethered to the earth. But she is floating.
I know the Buddha will not try to keep her or make her go. He will just cradle her. And, for now, that is enough.
Namaste.
I am in the room with my other sister, Kathy. Vicky is floating above her bed. I noticed this right away when I came in. I look around to see if anyone else notices. My sister is talking to me about Vicky but not about Vicky floating. The nurse is adjusting lines and dials and beeps and seems unperturbed. Vicky is drifting a little to and fro. Rocking a little. She is held in place by all the IVs and tubes and wires that they have attached to her. She can float no higher than the shortest of these lines. She is not straining at these ties, but I make sure the window is closed anyway. It is a fine if cold day with a bright blue sky.
Last time I was here I took a small smooth pebble from the hospital chapel. The pebble reminded me as I went about my day, and dug in my pocket from time to time, about Vicky and where she was and what she was going through. I carried that pebble for several weeks. It started out small and light and easy. It got heavier with each passing day until it became impossible to carry.
By my front door, back in Colorado, I have a small granite Buddha that sits on a pile of rocks under a ponderosa pine tree. His hands lay gently one in the other and make a small cup. I placed Vicky’s pebble there, in his hands, and what was crushing to me is easy for the Buddha to hold. That immense white stone as heavy as the universe lies gently on his palms.
Vicky is tethered to the earth. But she is floating.
I know the Buddha will not try to keep her or make her go. He will just cradle her. And, for now, that is enough.
Namaste.
2 comments:
What a beautiful post. Buddha cradling the rock... just the right image to express what is going on.
My thoughts and prayers are with you.
My thoughts and prayers are with you and yours for a smooth recovery for your sister.
As I read about the Buddha cradling the rock and cradling your sister, I could see that clearly in my minds eye. A wonderful way to express a view of the current situation.
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