4/3/06 2:18 PM
King David chose to end his opus to the gamut of human emotion, the Book of Psalms, by declaring, "Every living thing shall praise G-d; Praise G-d!" King David chose to use the unusual word "neshama" to mean "living thing"; and our Rabbis of Blessed Memory tell us that King David's intent in using this word was to also express the message "with every breath (n'shima) I will praise G-d".
I am sitting in front of my mother. The skin on her face drawn and sunken. To be honest I have never seen live person look like this. Hospice tells us that she has hours, not days. The little blue pamphlet they gave us told us her breathing would become more irregular as time goes on. I hold my breath every time Mom hesitates... then I breathe when she does; and I thank G-d for that breath (mine and hers).
She seems to be past the pain now. She seems to not even like the medicine sitting in her mouth. Is she trying to spit it out? Can't really tell. I am guessing that as her soul becomes less attached to this world, the pains that have racked her body for so long are just too far away to be a concern.
I have music playing for her -- 50s Rock 'n' Roll -- seems a bit out of place, but she likes it.
כֹּל הַנְּשָׁמָה תְּהַלֵּל יָהּ הַלְלוּ יָהּ:
(תהלים פרק קנ פסוק ו)
King David chose to end his opus to the gamut of human emotion, the Book of Psalms, by declaring, "Every living thing shall praise G-d; Praise G-d!" King David chose to use the unusual word "neshama" to mean "living thing"; and our Rabbis of Blessed Memory tell us that King David's intent in using this word was to also express the message "with every breath (n'shima) I will praise G-d".
I am sitting in front of my mother. The skin on her face drawn and sunken. To be honest I have never seen live person look like this. Hospice tells us that she has hours, not days. The little blue pamphlet they gave us told us her breathing would become more irregular as time goes on. I hold my breath every time Mom hesitates... then I breathe when she does; and I thank G-d for that breath (mine and hers).
She seems to be past the pain now. She seems to not even like the medicine sitting in her mouth. Is she trying to spit it out? Can't really tell. I am guessing that as her soul becomes less attached to this world, the pains that have racked her body for so long are just too far away to be a concern.
I have music playing for her -- 50s Rock 'n' Roll -- seems a bit out of place, but she likes it.
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