Two in the morning, April 16, 2005, in a Petaluma, CA hospital room. I was up and alert. Her hand in mine.
The room was cold and stark. No one else there but me and whatever was speaking. The machines had stopped their beeping. No doctor came in to check her vitals. I felt no fear.
I was there with her for her uneventful puff, her last breath.
The Presence was Taye, something greater than me. She has been with me since. I have wondered if it was The Unseen Therapist, the one I would spend years learning to work with and still work with.
The real Barbara arrived in a flash. The one criticized most of her life for being too sensitive. Emotionally neglected. Angry and scared. She had mastered ways of hiding, placing her attention on others, unconscious to her own needs.
The second my mother was gone, I felt a flood of sensation that was calming. This felt like relief. Surprised me.
I felt free to a new impulse. One that was grander. Fuller. Like my heart was simply reassuring me that all was all right.
I knew at the time of my mother's passing that Barbara was not a flaw, someone to get rid of or replace. She was young, and raw, and carrying pain with nowhere to put it. She needed a container that could hold all of her pain and to gain healthy control over her life after her mother died. That same rawness has been quietly becoming my creative overflow now that I am more public about it. Taye Bela Corby, The Living Laboratory, and what is moving forward in me continue to grow out of Barbara.
If you knew her, you can find her here. I would love to reconnect.