Storm Coming, Day Thirteen of Hospice

Mother's breathing has changed dramatically from this morning.  The Hospice nurse came by around noon and confirmed what I had already surmised: the end is coming quickly for her.  There is no longer even a hint of consciousness, nor of pain or discomfort.  Just air going in and out of her lungs until her heart finally gives out from the effort.

I've pushed feelings far from me.  I am almost numb.  No emotions that I can describe.  Just a patient waiting.

My brother and sister went out to look at a computer possibility for my sister's husband.  I thought it was a good idea. No sense in sitting around here just staring at one another.

A few minutes ago, thunder starting rumbling, and now rain is falling.

I remember the day, now over two weeks ago now, that we finally decided to stop the medical intervention and move mother to hospice care.  It had been an emotionally exhausting day, full of self-doubt and second-guessing, yet still knowing we were doing the right thing.

I left the hospital and drove to the skilled nursing center where she had been for eight days, and retrieved her clothes and other personal items we had brought there.

After letting myself into my mother's house, and bringing everything in, I prepared to head back home.  As I left, a storm coming that day suddenly cleared and I saw the most glorious double rainbow I had ever seen.  I stopped the car and just looked at it.  It was such a gift to me to see that sign of God's promises in the sky.  

I wonder now if this storm will blow in the angels that will take her home.