Watching another set of elderly parents change, consider, reconsider, and wait to be told the “right” answer is so painful. It brings up fear and and anxiety for those who cannot recall the numerous complicated steps to the the waltz of Life. It shows a glimpse of those things that will have to be attended to, coordinated and arranged for the unwilling participants.
For me, as I try to be strong and dependable in the light of another crisis of time, faith and family, there are moments of tears and flooding memories. It feels like a post traumatic stress response to the the sounds of decay, despair and discordant notes in the trailing notes of the last song.
It has to be OK because there is no other way out. But the path is no longer clear to walk. It is always in shadow, with dried twigs and brambles to step around cautiously. There is movement in darkened corners and fear from not having been on this route before. There will be many adjustments and accommodations to make the necessary baggage lighter and lighter, until only the soul lifts off to the light, leaving the body with the empty husks and teetering emptiness of acorn shells on the abandoned pathway.