Trying to get rid of that smell

She was in the hallway, rubbing something on her hands. Again.
Just a few yards away in the front bedroom her only son lay uncomfortably. He had thrown the covers off *(again) and soiled himself (again) and was painfully thin and jaudiced.

"Don't worry," I said. "I can easily clean that up."

She went off to the other room while I did just that and re-appeared as I was ready to leave.
Once again she was rubbing something on her hands and arms.
She looked at me, almost guiltily. Perhaps I wore an expression that challenged her although it was certainly not my intention.

"I am trying to get rid of that smell," she said.
I thought perhaps she had been cooking with garlic or onions.
"What smell? I do not smell anything," I said in return.

"It's the smell of death," she said and then laughed inappropriatly in awkwardness.

"Ahhh." I was thinking of something to say back. I decided the truth would do.
"I do not smell it. I suppose it has been a part of my normal life for so long I regard it as normal. But I remember when it was not that way."

She started to cry. There was a moan from the front room.

I checked to make sure everything to be done had been done and said my farewells.

"You are a good nurse and a great mom."

"You are very kind to say so."

"No. I am very truthful. You are a great mom."

And I left.

Later that night her son left for other realms invisible.
My prayer is that she holds fast to that truth. She is a great mom.

God Bless the Moms who bear the burdens.
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