Walking Onto Sacred Ground

On September 12, 2000, I had a dream that woke me up in the middle of the night. A voice, without form, said, "Write the story of your mother's life." At the time, I thought that would entail recounting the unique adventures of her early life on a homestead outside Calgary, Canada. Little did I know that her story would instead begin with a stroke that marked the beginning of her passage into the last stage of life. I never imagined that Mom would have to deal with the issues of assisted living and nursing homes, broken hips, and strokes. She had always suffered from high blood pressure and had weathered several heart attacks years ago. I was certain that her death, when it came, would be quick and clean.What lies ahead is the story of my journey with Mom through the last stage of her life, a journey into assisted living and her eventual death. I made a commitment to myself to join her in this as deeply as possible. I had no idea how this decision would force me into depths of my own character I never knew existed. My coping mechanisms were often rendered useless. I had no road map for a journey ruled by the unpredictable and offering no escape from the reality of death.