The time would come...
I'm at work, but I can't really imagine doing anything. I have today, tomorrow and a half day on Thursday. I'm starting to get sick from our Christmas visit to Vermont. I think it's odd that I can live in a big city and use public transportation every day, but I go to Vermont and come come home with a cold. Damn. Must be my immune system isn't used to those germs.
Anyway, my good mood from prior to Christmas was short-lived. It's a real bitch, because from here on, these posts are going to be depressing and moody as all hell. So I'll warn you about that right now, if you don't want to read my sad shit, I'd say stay away for a little while. But if you're into Pluto and getting heavy and talking about death and sadness, well, hop aboard. Though, my Sun/Venus nature will sprinkle in some lighthearted posts from time to time, but they will be few and far between.
The thing is, I'm in an intimate relationship with death right now. That's right, Pluto is transiting my 8th house, and my fiance has a natal Cancer moon (3 degrees) which creates a t-square with transiting Saturn and Pluto. His mother is dying and has been for the last two years. When someone is dying, it never seems quite real, at least not until the death is imminent. So we've been doing our thing, holding out till this known time would come. Anticipating, ignoring, fearing, analyzing...what else can you do between the time of diagnosis and death?
I feel like I'm sitting on the edge of a deep, dark cliff...hanging my legs off the side, knowing that something is going to reach up and pull me in soon. You know that feeling? When I was a little girl, I watched this horror movie called Dolls, and ever since then, I have a terrible time letting my leg poke out from under the blankets when I go to bed at night. I get the chills just imagining something might grab my leg, bite me or drag me away. That's the feeling I have right now. But I'm not safe and warm in bed, able to throw the blankets over myself. I'm on the edge of a damn cliff.
Greg's mother may only have a couple of weeks left. I don't know. Those specifics aren't real. What is real is her phone call to him this morning from her hospital bed, completely in tears because she was alone. Why is she alone? She was surrounded by people from the moment I met her. She has so many friends. I can't count on my two hands all of the women and men I have met who called themselves friends of hers. But it's the end, you know. Who will stand by you at the end? Who will sit by your hospital bed? Will it be that group of people you call friends? Will it be your husband or wife? Will it be your children? Will anyone be there?
I know I want to be there and so does Greg.
I don't know when we're leaving, but I know it's soon.
Artist Antoine de Villiers