Cold Hospitals
I was sitting in the waiting room of the hospital yesterday waiting for my Mother to come out of surgery, and I was flooded with memories of our last experience there just over a year ago when we almost lost my Dad.
It’s a horrible place in those waiting rooms - emotionally, physically charged. You can cut the air with a knife. There are rooms full of people holding books but not reading, people working at the big puzzle table, or playing cards, trying to direct their thoughts away from worry and fear. There is no idle chit chat, only the smell of old coffee.
For many I am sure it is a chance to reflect on life, and relationships with their friend or loved one. What might have been, what might come. What should have been said, is there still time to say it?
I am glad that my mom started to share memories on her Picalily account. It’s a good way for my kids to see who she is, and what she really thinks about. None of us knows how long we’ll be around to tell our own stories. We might as well tell them while we can.
28 May
