resting place

i've been thinking about it a lot lately.  i guess there are just some things in life you never get over.
the night mom died, three years ago this sunday it was, i was sleeping in the van, parked on the street outside of my parents house.  she was in a deep coma in the hospital, miles away, had been for days.   we didn't know when it would happen, but then it did.  i couldn't have known she died; i was asleep, miles away.  but something happened to me.  i was laying there, sleeping.  then suddenly my body became filled with electricity.  i literally felt like i was being electrocuted.  i was shaking. trembling.  cold and hot all at once.  and i knew it was her, passing through me, unmistakable as the chill of a winter's draft blowing through a closing door.  
this sunday, i make a pilgrimage to her final resting place, a cabin way off the grid, nestled in the remote woods of mt. st. helens.  my parents built that cabin, from the ground up, so they could be with nature and disappear from the chaotic world of worries and woe.  there, my mother was truly at peace.  and there, it is the rhythm and pulse of the forest and lake that bring me close to her again.
this is an echo.  this is the glory.  this is the pounding of a midnight heart.  this is the mountains.  this is the lightning.  this is a man pulling on his iron chains.  -aa bondy

1 comment:

  1. wow. thanks for aa bondy. that fit my heart's needs perfectly.