Monday, October 7, 2013

Impossible Steps


Sometimes I think back or look back on the early days of caring for Sophie as a sort of exercise, a honing of the enduring part of me. If I could do that then, I think, I can surely do this now. I keep walking. The steps are shallow, a Chinese mountain, the path is still steep. When I watch her have seizures, and now she has them all the time, my body is a numb sigh. I hum as I walk, a drone more than a song. These are moments so disengaged that I know I am not enough, am never enough. I take a picture and another one. I am losing my confidence in light, the light, her light, wings of desire.



20 comments:

  1. O snail,
    Climb Mt. Fuji,
    But slowly, slowly!

    -- Issa

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  2. sending a big hug.
    and a hiking pole.
    baci.

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  3. I cannot imagine how hard it must be to see Sophie seizing so much. I wish I knew the right words but I don't. But I'm here, loving you both, bearing witness.

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  4. So, so hard. I will hold both you and Sophie in the light in my heart.

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  5. Love and light your way, Elizabeth.

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  6. It is a few hours to sunrise for you. I hope the light through your window comforts you both.

    Best,
    Bonnie

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  7. oh, eee. did you try more clobazam? i am sighing with you. xo

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  8. Her eyes may sustain you but your eyes amaze me. They hold the light. They give it back. Always.

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  9. You are so much more than enough. My heart aches for the mother in you that thinks you are faltering when you are doing the most important, vital thing you can do. Sophie is loved and so are you. Know that for each step you take there are so many with you in spirit, keeping space and sending more light and love.

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  10. Kario is right, there are many of us holding space with you, you are not alone.

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  11. Another voice chiming in. Present. Sighing with you and yes, you are so much more than enough.
    sending love and light.

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  12. I'm right here, too. Sending you love, Elizabeth.

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  13. I'm here listening. And hoping with all of my being. Hoping.

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  14. I can only imagine. Sending love. And more love.

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  15. Some days it feels more like a pilgrimage on our knees than a step at a time. Crawling alongside with you.

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  16. Oh, my dears...if only hugs were enough...Sending them from afar.

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  17. I am so very sorry it's so hard, Elizabeth. I wish I could ease Sophie's suffering, and yours. Please know that I am sending light and love and prayers for relief, for healing, for comfort, for respite, for joy. I am holding hope for you.

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  18. You are one of us - and then you are not. Your mountain is the steepest one I know of.

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  19. I wish I had some magic words - or magic, period. I truly don't know what to say right now, other than to send you love.

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