cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
When I began writing about losing Mom last August, I knew July was waiting on the other side. I knew that at the end of this journey I would be practicing gratitude, thankful for the gift of this year. There was an inner knowing, a need to sort out the words and feelings surrounding my…
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I held death in my arms once. In February 2008 the tiny body of my nephew, born 20 weeks early, was brought to me wrapped in a blanket in sister-in-law Deanna’s hospital room. In my womb a 20-week-old baby kicked. It felt like the hardest thing I would ever have to do, continue growing life…
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Losing Mom brought change on a daily, weekly, monthly basis. There was a change in her eating habits, medication dosing, daily routines. There was a change in her sleep cycles, energy cycles, and tolerance for company. There was a change in her physical ability, emotional capacity, and mental acumen. This was difficult to face, let…
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I returned to the Red Tent this year with the intention of engaging its themes through the lens of losing Mom, feeling confident in my decision. Approaching this fifth post, my mind is filled with questions and doubts, threatening to derail the intention that began this process. Is this really a good idea? Am I…
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One day, when I was three or four years old, Mom and I went to visit Dad during his lunch break. As we sat with him on the steps outside, his colleague offered me a piece of cheese. I took the cheese, put it in my mouth, and told Mom that I had to go…
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As the “local daughter,” once Mom’s diagnosis of metastatic pancreatic cancer was confirmed, I toggled between showing up and removing myself from the space as much as possible so that her other children could get what they wanted and needed from her dying process. Out-of-town siblings and their families visited often. Mom’s sisters and brother…
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“There will be a procedure. They are checking out what is going on in his lungs,” she mentions one rainy April evening. My shoe heels click as we walk down the sterile, grey halls of the big city hospital. Someone makes a joke to try to ease the tension we feel in our bodies. My…
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In honor of the tenth anniversary of Red Tent Living, we are featuring a monthly legacy post written by one of our regular contributors from the past decade. Becky Allender is one of the original Red Tent writers; she’s been with us since 2013. Her voice has offered the blessing of a matriarch and been…
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“I’m going to get off the phone now.” “Mom, tell me you love me.” “I love you honey.” “OK mom, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” “OK, goodbye.”
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A small stream of light struggles to break through a crack between the window blinds in the darkened room. The persistent beep from the nearby machine hums. It is annoying, as it reminds me I am in the ICU.
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