no one is happier than the village idiot's blog: "My Writing"

The Six Stones

Lying on the nightstand next to her bed, were five smooth white stones, left over from some aromatherapy massage miracle treatment, and one acrylic stone with Raphael the Archangel of Healing embedded in it.

Her breath was very labored now, her lungs filling minute by minute with fluid too deep to be suctioned, gurgling like bong-water without the smoke, the oxygen tube puffing air in her nose barely keeping her skin pink. The end of this four year battle to stay alive, and alert, to be mother, wife and friend, was near, so very near, that there was now a hush in the room, and peoples eyes started with tears at the instinctual recognition of Death’s presence.

Her son, barely five years old, who had without fail, tossed as many coins in every fountain as I would let him, who never failed once, to say a prayer for his mothers healing at every meal, and before bed, was lying next to her, peacefully holding her hand. Every few minutes, he would rise up, and as he had done for months, anoint her head with Holy Water and a kiss from his small lips.

No tears for him, he knew that tears would only make her more worried, and he did not want to cause her any worry at all.

“Mike, it’s time to go to bed boy, kiss your momma goodnight!” I said, choking back my own tears, truly believing this to be his last kiss on her living lips…

Instead of the perfunctory kiss and ‘G’night mom, see ya tomorrow!’ that was his usual for the last five months of her steadily declining bedridden state, he did something new…

I watched in silence as he picked up the five white stones, and took the first of them, and kissed it, and said, “Mom, this wish is for your bones to get better,” and he placed it on her laboring ribs, the second stone kissed by his lips and the words he said brought a catch to my voice – “Mom, this one is so you will be able to use your hands again” and he placed it in her right hand, and curled her fingers around it – the third, he kissed and said, “this is so your stomach wont be sick, and you can eat again, and grow strong” – and he placed it on her cancer bloated stomach, the fourth he kissed and placed on her forehead and said “Mom, this is so the cancer will leave your brain so you can talk to me again”.  The last fifth stone, he kissed it, paused and said “This wish, is for your heart, so you will always love me like you do” and then, as I thought him finished I reached for him to hug the pain I knew was coming to him so soon, but he pushed me away, and took the sixth piece, the acrylic stone with Raphael embedded in it, kissed it, placed it in her left hand and curled her fingers around it and said “Mom, this is for if you die, so the angels will take you to heaven to wait for me.”

He climbed into the bed pulled next to her hospital bed and with a small child’s faith in wishes made and with his hand touching her arm he fell asleep.

(My son, actually did this, on the last evening of his mothers life. She died just before 8AM the next morning. I was amazed at the many profound moments tha accompanied her death. This is just one of many of them)