A Full Half Glass of Water

My muse, my tenacious, outspoken, smart as a whip, character of a Mother-in-law is in hospice. She has been on a steady decline the past six months, philosophizing about the meaning of life. "Why are we here? What is the point of all this?" All the while looking younger than her ninety two years. Her "curse," she would bemoan, looking so darn good on the outside.

She often told us she prays to go to sleep at night and not wake in the morning. I admonished her, insisting there is still so much to live for. She said I should not wish that for her, but I could not help thinking I could convince her to stay. My optimism spreading a slight grin to her "glass of water half empty" face.

For the past six days we have thought each breath might be her last. This morning a nurse commented, "She's got a strong will." That she does. But, she has also gotten her wish in a manner of speaking. She's asleep now, in a kind of suspended animation. Maybe she hears the retelling of stories at her bedside; memories that fill a lifetime. Perhaps she is having second thoughts about leaving this world. That would not surprise "the glass of water half full" in me one bit.