Reunion

A few days ago I received an email from a very dear friend and her words moved me so much, that I didn’t want them to be left in my email intray. That is why I asked her permission to publish an extract of the email and a photograph of her with her aunt, and she generously agreed.

Thank you for sharing your experience, dear Pilar.

Olga

“I need to give you, and everyone involved in one way or another with making Moving Your Soul a reality, my most heartfelt thanks. Now it is I who is experiencing this as my aunt Marta, with whom I have been very close, is now in a residential home since her Alzheimer’s advanced to a more severe phase.

I hadn’t seen her for more than 15 years, for we lived far apart and I only had the opportunity to speak with her by telephone.

Since the last time we spoke her condition has worsened significantly and although she has a very caring family from whom she receives much love, unfortunately she is now in a phase in which she needs residential care. So I went to see her one sunny spring afternoon and I found her in bed, gripping on to the bed frame as if scared of falling off.

I have to thank you and Moving your Soul for the gift of a perspective that helped me to contain the pain and anger of seeing my beloved aunt that way. From the first moment, I was able to look into her eyes, embrace her and be with her, with the same aunt Marta of always. I didn’t ask her if she knew who I was, I simply said, “My beautiful Auntie, I’m Pili, Maria Cristina’s daughter, I have missed you so much and I came to see you.” Her eyes lit up for an instant and she repeated “auntie” with a crooked and cadaverous smile that nonetheless was her usual smile too.

I gave her lots of kisses and, given how coquettish she had always been, I filled her with compliments while tears rolled down my cheeks.

I spoke with her, gave her sips of water, put cream on her face, stroked her hair and I would love to be able to do this every day, every day… because I imagine her there, so many moments all alone, and my heart breaks…

She also kissed me a lot. She looked haggard, bone-thin, like a small bird (I then understood what you had told me so many times about your mother) – so defenceless and vulnerable. I said to her “you’re like a little bird, are you hoping to fly away?” And she laughed, repeating little bird a few times, and managed to say “how funny” just before grimacing in pain as if for an instant she became aware of her own suffering. My caresses were received with a baby’s way of trusting. “I know, auntie, I know…” I said softly as I held her while she cried without tears for a few moments, and then she calmed down.

I held the hand that was clinging on to the bedrail with such determination that her knuckles had turned white, as if all blood was drained out. I said to her “you can let go auntie, I’ve got you, that’s it, I’ve got you…” she gradually let go her hand while I stroked her dry skin, like paper… I put cream on her hands, and caressed her until she fell asleep.

I have much to thank my aunt for and I did so then and there, looking into her eyes and with the profound sadness of knowing I was also saying goodbye to another aunt who at the same time was there in front of me.

I don’t know if I would have been able to get through this experience with so much tenderness if Moving Your Soul had not already moved my own soul prior to this encounter. In fact, I am convinced that the pain, anger and impact of seeing my aunt like that would have undone me.

THANK YOU, my friend.

THANK YOU, Moving your Soul.”

Pilar Rueda