How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.

– A. A. Milne – Life Lessons From Winnie-the-Pooh

Years back, I’ve written something which was actually published (get your copy here), this piece shows my mind processing the nostalgia of watching mom going through dementia.

Jesus came to get her, it was harder during the isolation times… the cause was none related to the virus, but, the consequences were devastating… depriving us of her presence, a proper funeral or even a basic visitation. Everything was online and just for a few minutes, streamed live (who would ever imagine we would experience times like this?)

I have updated that piece later, summarized some parts and decided to finish it, as my closure and associated with her beautiful picture on mother’s day, when my husband finished a gorgeous meditation space for her at her house in Connecticut. The new piece was once again published, now by the VICC, in another anthology. So far, my biggest pride as a writer – the most touching and introspective piece I’ve ever created.

Did she know (updated version)

Did she know – Updated Version – Anthology Creative Expressive Writting

Did she know it would the last time she went grocery shopping and bought exactly the same things from the previous trip?

Did she know it was the last time she would do her evening routine prior to go to sleep? Pre-set the table for breakfast, set the thirteen pills in a Dixie cup covered by a couple of Kleenex? Squeezed Olay cream at the tip of her fingers and carefully scrubbed her miraculously radiant 96 year-old face?

Did she know it was the last time she would peel 5 lb. of apples and prepare her own applesauce? That would be the last time she would turn the stove on, boil water and prepare her own oatmeal? Did she know it would be the last time she was capable of preparing her own cup of coffee? Did she know it was the last time she would wash her few and very same dishes?

Did she know it was the last time she would choose which clothe to wear, a pair of earrings to match the sweat shirt, the black sweat pants and the white pair of sneakers? Did she know it would be the last time she was capable of putting make up on and be excited to go out to the Home Town Buffet at the top of the hill? Did she know it was the last time she would wrap a slice of pizza she couldn’t eat and stuck it into her pocket book?

Did she know it would be the last time she would do laundry? Carry her reinforced USO jeans bag, used as hamper and carry it to the basement? Did she know it would be the last time she would sit in her chair and watch TV waiting for the dryer cycle to end, so that she could fold her things, put into a basket and crawl the steps back upstairs?

Did she know it was the last time she would tell the yard worker to trim the bushes; to not touch the red tree; to blow the autumn leaves, to shovel the driveway? Did she know it was the last time she opened the front door to get the mail?

Did she know she would never get back to that pair of stockings that she had worn just once and carefully folded in her drawer, so that she could wear once again before washing of throwing them out? Did she know that beautiful black lace set she bought from a magazine, perhaps to impress her husband, for a romantic evening or even to feel beautiful, would never be worn?

Did she know that blue cut of yard, matching the flowery pillow case she cut in pieces would never become whatever she dreamed in making?

How many unfulfilled dreams, projects started, ideas not initiated? How many letters not sent, or written? Clothes, jewelry and shoes never worn, waiting for a special occasion? How many days not lived, waiting for someone to show up, to visit, or for some companion? How many phone calls not placed waiting for the other side to apologize or just initiate it? How much money not spent doing something she wanted; buying something she didn’t need but that would be nice to have it? How many places not visited and things not done?

Did she know she would lose it? That she would have no idea of who she was, which season, which month, or even which year it was? Did she know she wouldn’t be able to know who the president was or even her own name? Did she know the moments lived in the last 75+ years would be just erased?

Did she know she wouldn’t be able to make a decision for herself, or remember anything else other than her beloved mom and a bit of her childhood?

Did she know that we wouldn’t be able to take care of her, even though we wanted? Did she know we would leave her somewhere, trying to convince ourselves it was best for her? Did she know we would promise to visit her often, but couldn’t, not because of time or willingness, but because we needed to rebuild our broken hearts and soul from the last visit? Did she know an in-law would love her this much?

I prayed that when it was finally her time to leave us physically, for God to be merciful and use the sleep machine as her transportation, perhaps during a sweet dream, where she is walking in a beautiful place, that He comes, smiles at her, takes her hand and side-by-side helps her cross the bridge…

For us that stay, I hope we are able to comprehend the power of here and now… that there is no special occasion to do something, to wear something, to create something, but at the very present, each day, each moment. That it might just be that we have already done many “lasts” in our journey…

Today she would have been 98. A truly privilege to make it half way after 97… I miss her, talking to her, hearing her, listening to her laugh… I am grateful for all the time we had together, the conversations (even the non sense), the meals, her appreciation, our prayers, our moments contemplating…

She is and will remain forever in my memories, as part of me, of what to be, to become, how to get old, getting lighter each day, laughing of things, taking them less serious and adventuring myself into something new, each time I feel like it, no matter what others may think or try to prevent me to…

Did she know that morning after gym it would be the last time I would see her? Did she know it would be her last video when she stared at the camera and clearly said: “Gary, I adore you!”?

Sheyla Zito

I would remember a fantasy world…

A world where family used to sit around the table to have their meals together, talking, laughing, telling stories, speaking all the same time and magically listening to every conversation and replying in joy.

I would remember a world where my boys are close to me, very present and intentionally around, looking for advice, excited to share, rapt (extasiado) to tell me about something they’ve just experienced,  a girl they’ve just met, something about her smile, the way she moves her hand and touches her hair, the simple but breathtaking smile coordinated with her looking unintentionally until meeting their gaze…

I would remember a happily ever after life, the one I probably have lived, or not, but that I miss, one that exists in my own mind, with birds singing, sitting at the back porch looking at the mountains, feeling the breeze touching my face, the butterflies kissing the flowers and the humminbirds in their last journey before fall arrives in its majesty. 

I would remember an utopic love, truly soul mate, as I felt once, or twice… when I was 20 and then again when I was 35, before it had faded away to a far away land, which I no longer could smell its scent, feel its temperature, hear its sounds, see its enchantment or touch its form.  

So much for maturing and growing old…without realizing we stop living the present or imagining the future, but we use our creative minds to change the past, to color the happy pages, to add glitter to it and make it even brighter and happier. We skip or without any resentment we rip off the pages with the sad stories. But some, the ones we are proud of, we would frame and put in our imaginary living room, close to the mantel, as a reminder of our battles and the medals we’ve collected throughout the years. Scars that as years pass we become proud to share, to talk about our vulnerabilities, to show that we too were weak and unhappy, but we are okay with that.

I would make sure everyone knows how much I love them, not individually, because I truly believe I’ve done that throughout the journey, but that if they could imagine love in its greatest form, size, color, sound and smell; the strongest beating of the heart, the warmth of the 12o’clock sun, the awakening of a deep dive in a lake, the beauty of a sunset and the promise of a sunrise, and the brighteness of a full moon in a perfectly clear sky. My love would be present in all of it, and at the peaceful silence at the mountain top and the beauty of the landscape under their feet they would feel me, there, still present, somewhere they can’t see, but feel as they close their eyes.

I would imagine that I have never left my boys, neither for a second, that we have shared everything and more and it was never enough, such a great love we always have for one another. I would remember our moments together doing the dishes, talking about our day: the silliest things and that would mean the world. I would remember watching they opening the front door and coming inside the apartment where I would be already preparing dinner and they would walk into the tiny kitchen, kiss my chic and walk to their room. I would remember arriving from work, with my hands full of computer bag, pocket book, car keys and the groceries bags I’ve purchased in my way home, planning some special dinner and would see them sitting at the living room, watching TV, playing on the floor with Hot Wheels cars and tracks and laughing with the dog trying to be part of it all. 

I would remember minutes before getting into countless surgeries and waking up alive after them, so grateful for having another chance and opportunity to keep going and try to do it right that time. 

I would remember the Monday nights we used to go to my mother’s house to pray the rosary as a family. Sitting around the gigantic kitchen take to have dinner together, mom’s scrumptions food, and see the whole table taken by each one of us, still dressed from work. I would remember we all then moving to the living room after taken way too much time eating, but happily finding a place to sit, choosing the rosary we liked the best and all started praying; even the little kids knew all the prayers by heart and they would proudly pray and put tears into our eyes. We would pray fervently for all that asked for our prayers and our own, truly believing everything was going to be ok, to get resolved, to be healed, to pass… and they always did. 

I would remember my faith, how powerful it has always been and my ancestries and people I cared about that had already crossed the bridge and get excited with the idea of meeting them again and sharing all that they’ve missed since their departure… and I would look up and see Him, smiling; close my eyes smiling, remembering when He once told me:

–       You knew it was going to be short…

And with confidence, take my last breath in gratitude for all the blessings, the graces, the opportunities, the lessons, the people I met, the family I was chosen to be part of, or that have chosen me… for all that I did, said, had, for all the seeds I’ve planted, for the ones that germinated and the ones still in hibernation and I would go happily, with a feeling of completed mission and looking forward to experiencing the eternal life and to learn more about my role there… I will be in ecstasy to finally meet our Lord and live in Heaven happily ever after, this time, for real. 

Sheyla Zito

15Sep2020 12pm 1023 words from my back porch In Spring Hill, TN