visiting mom - john robinson

20 october 2002 sunday life. these personal images were produced during the last eight months of my mothers life during family visits to the frail care centre where she stayed. “let go, don't hang around here no more, cherry blossoms are on the trees right now but you don't see them any more...” the cooling of her skin is setting in as I reach out to touch her feet, her eyes and to smooth her hair. I guess it’s over now, the stars shone brightly that night as i left her to return to my family. i also have a new reason now to explain to others why god put all that effort into lighting the midnight sky. i don’t know if it’s the soul that moves on, or just that body gives up, or if the good god almighty whispers a quiet call that a better place is now ready for his own, and that it’s time to come home. anyway, the words of the song will forever be with me, and linked to a woman sitting by a window in a frail care centre, the woman who gave birth to me. i wondered why you chose to stay on, I have wondered what you thought of me and my camera. i could have asked you what you though but i did not, you weren’t able to verbalise, yet you looked at me at times with that same look you gave me years ago as i set about a task, a look of encouragement. i still want to shout out at the people who took your momentary healing and ran with it, claiming a miracle and not really wanting to know that you were back in your chair, but then way before them, the tumour should have killed you anyway. you lived your life in awe of the living god, instilling in your children a concept of christian faith that out of which we had then to find out for ourselves a living way. my daughter erin will probably have no recollections of you in later life, she is only now coming on for two, as you were on that downward slide she was gaining independence, as you sat in that chair she was visiting all the others discovering the world as you were slowly losing yours. i kissed you good bye one last time and walked out of your room glancing back to see you smile that same smile, the smile of encouragement, of recognition. I turned away only to return a few days later to see your husk with its cooling skin. dad is working in the garden again, it looks great now, new buds are appearing with the spring rains, he misses you, he is alone now. i guess that the garden just keeps him busy. he found it hard sitting next to you in the last days, my belief says that you are in that better place now, my heart though still aches with the many memories of you. the flowers in that private place are doing well too, you always liked the place, we thought it was for the best in the end, its always open, it will be always there, and you will always say that it’s only ash and that it doesn’t really matter.

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