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Show Moon - 215 I saw a movie a few years ago in which a man who is supposed to be dying has escaped from his bed and is running, laughing and dancing down the lower corridors, the nether regions of the hospital. He sees a gray-haired woman tossing and groaning with pain, obviously left to die alone. He goes into her room and sits by her head and strokes her hair and says, "You are so beautiful. I love you." The dying woman stops tossing and her face is illuminated by joy. This, I think, is what I meant when I wanted Josh to see the black bitter parts of me and love me anyway. Maybe this is something I've had to do for myself first so Td be able to imagine that Josh could do the same. I'm the hag, and I have to hug myself, and then invite the man in my life to do the same. This is what you meant when you tore your nightgown under the Christmas tree: you wanted James to give up his sentimental love and see you as you really were. But so often it takes a complete stranger, a man dancing down the halls, a steward serving tea on a ship, to have the valor to say, really say, when we are feeling ugly and unable to be loved, "I honor you." John, the banker, was a stranger who gave me back some of my beauty, though he will never know this. David, against all probability, embraced me as his true daughter. I've been much luckier than you; it isn't fair. Mother, if where you live now is inside me or floating in the air above me and Lee, help us to release you and let you be carried, finally, by the angels. We need to give you to your last home. It's time. It's time. |