It is 3am and the mockingbird is singing the song of the catbird, the robin, and the sparrow in hopes of finding a mate. This started two weeks ago, outside my bedroom window- he perches in the cherry blossom tree and sings into the deep darkness offering the song of everyone he knows longing for a reply. I have come to call it the bird booty call. I am ever hopeful he will attract his songmate and they will fly off into the night and leave me to my slumber, but this has not happened yet.
My heart is heavy this week. A pt. I have had for over a year and a half is finally making her transition into the afterlife. She has ALS. This is my least favorite disease if there can be one. It has robbed her of every muscle in her body except a few last precious ones, she can no longer swallow, her ability to breathe is shallow and her voice is barely audible. The rest of her body lies in wait, unable to respond to her mind that would will it otherwise. She has had amazing courage. We have shared many stories and last Spring my son and I shared her ALS walk in Seaside while she zoomed ahead on her electric scooter.
She opens her eyes and focuses on me. “Please, make it quick” she requests. I tell her I will make her comfortable, but I cannot make it quick unless she has bail money, she smiles. It is a gift, her smile. It is one of the last muscles to leave her command. It helps me. It helps my sadness. I know she will be forever healed once she has left us, this is my solace for her suffering. There is something sacred is witnessing someone else suffering. Her husband and live-in care giver have shared her journey with love and devotion, he now shadows himself in the kitchen and she is ever present at the bedside. Their love is boundless, I know my pt. feels this.
I tell her the story of my mockingbird. She has loved nature and spent many hours in her gardens when she was younger. I tell her how the mockingbird has stolen my sleep. I do not tell her she also has stolen my sleep as I awaken often and wonder if I will see her again in the coming dawn. I tell her how I hope the little lonely bird finally flies off with his love. She smiles. Her last gift to me. I am so blessed.