Friday, November 25, 2011

I suppose I should explain why I've begun this new journal, although an explanation hardly seems necessary. I expect it will not be read often, if at all, by anyone other than myself. So, from this moment on, I shall simply share - be it emotions, events, memories, etc..

My mom, Ginny, is living with and dying of cirrhosis of the liver. As we, her family, struggle to help her live as full a life as possible in whatever time she has remaining, I'm finding the need to record all this in some way. Not only this, but also, the time we had before now. Before alcohol stole her will and enjoyment of life. Before struggles and inner demons drove her to find ways to escape at the bottom of a bottle. Because those are the times I treasure. That was the mother I knew ~ and still now know, even as her body fails her and her mind sheds it's ability to understand.


THERE DWELLS inside you, deep within, a tiny whippoorwill.
Listen. You will hear him sing.
His aria mourns the dusk. His solo signals the dawn.
It is the song of the whippoorwill.
He will not be silent until the sun is seen.

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