I would hurl words into this darkness and wait for an echo, and if an echo sounded, no matter how faintly, I would send other words to tell, to march, to fight, to create a sense of hunger for life that gnaws in us all.
Richard Wright
Right now I realize that my blog is echoing the exterior events of my life and the resulting feelings more then the process around my photography. That is okay. My photography is still there, it's just more muted right now.
I spoke with my mother this evening. She tried to speak casually of what her day was like, but I could hear an echo of pain and perhaps fear. She tried to attribute the pain to her arthritis. But the echo of fear I mentioned earlier resounded clearly. On an other day I might have ignored it, but tonight tired from a hard day and knowing that my own fear was rising of things changing too rapidly, I asked her if she felt it could be attributed to the cancer. After a couple of minutes, she answered possibly. She then said she wished I was there now. And again I heard echoes. My mom isn't so much afraid of the cancer itself as being alone with it in the wee hours of the night. For me this is the hardest thing of all right now. Wanting to be there for more time then I can give due to my life restrictions.
Most of us wish for more time when we are faced with limitations. I can only hope that the time we want for her will happen. I know there is life still, but the echo of death is becoming a real voice and it will sound it's call whether we want to hear it or not.
Pink Floyd, "Echoes":
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