I have written a lot about my visits with Mother. There are days now that she doesn't know my name. Time with her may be very short. Sometimes while she sleeps, I sit and watch her breathing and also stare at these items on her bedside table...my head a jumble of memories, my heart heavy and sad.
Reading about other people and their situations enables me to get away. Two recent escapes are
Tonight's contemporary church service focused on this point: every breath comes from God...the first one at birth, the last one in death, and all the ones in between.