She spent most of the day sleeping, but when she woke she was cheerful and glad to see us (whoever she thought we were). I'd like to think she recognized me and my sisters and their families, although I'm not really sure. But I sat next to her bed for six hours knitting a totally unnecessary and poorly-executed scarf for my son, and as I knitted I had a lot of time to think. I remembered her sleeping across the foot of my bed when I was seven and had the measles. I remembered her throwing her fake fur coat over my bed in the winter because we didn't have central heating until I was fourteen. I remembered her dealing with the deaths of her two sons and her firstborn grandchild and her husband. I watched her cope with legal blindness for the last twenty years. This is a strong woman. It was so hard to realize that she's been strong for long enough. It is selfish for me to wish to prolong her time with us.
Is anyone ready to let go of a mother, regardless of age? I am lucky to have had her for so long, I know, with all her quirky ways. Death could come in a day or maybe a week, but it's coming, and I am leaning on all my faith to face it. And unlike Dylan Thomas with his father, I pray that she will "go gentle into that good night."