When it came to phone conversations with mom, I was always the one saying goodbye. This perhaps wasn’t the case as a child, but this is what I most remember. “Well, I’ll let you go,” and so on — so much so it just became a habit. After she became sick, it continued (despite the guilt) because I felt, I had to go.

– – – – –

Me: Hi Buddy!

Mom: Hi Buddy!

Me: I just called to say I love you.

Mom: Well, how nice!

Me: Ahh …

Mom: I miss you.

Me: I miss you, too!

– – – – –

And then a stage of immense awareness emerged.

That state, where I am now, is a place where I do not say goodbye until she initiates. I simply listen and share stories until she says she is ready to go.

Sometimes, we talk so long she literally forgets how to hang up the phone. (This happens more often on longer calls.) And unless we’re interrupted by ritual (pill time) or madness (someone’s wandered into her room) we talk and talk.

It seems so poignant — how putting a receiver to sleep can sometimes take so long.

I take so much for granted.

I listen to the clamoring attempts and when it doesn’t click, she’ll come back to say, “Hi”. Most of the time aware, though, sometimes not.

Worst case, I text a sibling to call and have the nurse assist while I stay on the line. (It makes an awful noise otherwise.)

All in all, this decision changed things a lot between us. So many hours simply being present with one another. Time spent of shared airspace in a way that wasn’t filled with needs. Neither one of us wanting to say or hear anything in particular from each other. But instead an awareness to just to be there. To experience whatever, together, minute by minute.

Very recently, however, she’s been taking the opportunity to say goodbye a lot sooner than she had been and for now, I’m taking its a good sign that she has other places to be, things to do and is doing OK.

I talk to her the same, if not more, but the conversations have felt slightly more urgent, shorter in length, and there is less for her to say, I feel. We’re focusing on the sentiment. And so, I have also started calling a little bit more often instead of what had become every night.

– – – – –

Me: I’ll pray for you

Mom: OK.

Me: OK.

Mom: I’ll pray for you, too

Me: Aww, you’re so sweet.

Mom: Love you.

Me: Love you more.

Mom: (Chuckles).

Me: Ralk to you late.r

Mom: Talk you tomorrow!

Me: Good night, g’noot.

Mom: Good night, my dear.