My mother is in palliative care. She’s 96 and has declined significantly both cognitively and physically in the last few years – Covid was especially difficult with all the protocols and isolation involved. Almost three weeks ago, Mom had a fall in the middle of the night that resulted in a hip fracture and a gigantic decline in her health. I visit every day although I don’t really know if she knows I’m there. However, we are taking comfort from the fact that she is in excellent hands and we all hope for a peaceful end.
As Mom’s executor, I’ve been filling in the hours going through various files and boxes. Today I pulled out a folder labelled memories and discovered letters, cards and pictures from her grandchildren written at various ages plus a bundle of cards and letters held together by two elastic bands. Most of these letters were sent by me including quite a few from the years when Ian and I lived in Hong Kong. Mom loved getting what she called ‘real mail’.
Tucked into that bundle of letters was an envelope with the single word ‘Love’ on the front. I extracted a card featuring a lake glowing in the pink of sunset and looked inside.
At some time, Mom must have found this poem particularly meaningful. Did she mean to send it to someone? Or just keep it for reflection? I’ll never know.
Love is the filling from one’s own another’s cup
Love is the daily laying down and taking up
A choosing of the stony path through each new day
That other feet may tread at ease the smoother way
Love is not blind, but looks abroad through other’s eyes
And asks not, “Must I give?” but “May I sacrifice?”
Love hides its griefs, that other hearts and lips may sing
And burdened walks, that other lives may buoyant wing
I wasn’t able to find the name of the poet – one source said it was anonymous – but I did discover two more lines which my mother did not include. And of course, I wonder why she made that choice. Perhaps she wrote the poem in remembrance of one of the four men in her life – definitely a story waiting to be told – and was overwhelmed by emotion?
However, I feel that Mom lived much of her life in accordance with this philosophy. She is indeed a special woman.
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M.K. Tod writes historical fiction. Her latest novel is THE ADMIRAL’S WIFE, a dual timeline set in Hong Kong. Mary’s other novels, PARIS IN RUINS, TIME AND REGRET, LIES TOLD IN SILENCE and UNRAVELLED are available from Amazon, Nook, Kobo, Google Play and iTunes. She can be contacted on Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads or on her website www.mktod.com.