|Mom's house; June 2010|
Mom so wanted to build a real house on their property, a big house to live in, where she could host parties, make and show art, spend time with the grandchildren as they grew, and just stare at the mountains and enjoy the quiet. She won't get to build that house. In fact, she will never see even this small house again, and it absolutely breaks my heart. My mom has so many dreams, so many unfinished projects, so much left to do. And now she has maybe a few weeks left, weeks of uncertainty and grief and forever-goodbyes. We haven't been able to find the care she needs here in New Mexico (which is just unbelievable to me), so she wants to go back home to Philadelphia, in main part to be with her sisters and other family.
This is so unfair. It always is.
There is a house built out of stone
Wooden floors, walls and window sills
Tables and chairs worn by all of the dust
This is a place where I don't feel alone
This is a place where i feel at home
And I built a home
Until it disappeared
And now, it's time to leave and turn to dust
(Patrick Watson/The Cinematic Orchestra)