Witchesâs Nights Visitations During Hromnice Weekâand saying goodbye
The Doe and fawn appeared first. The snow was thick and the air cold. Later I hung out my Brigidâs cross, my ribĂn Brigid and my mother-in-lawâs beautiful mid century rose-patterned crochet shawl that Iâve been using as a veil. I put Brigidâs bed upon the hearth.
Around 4 am my husband woke me, âI think something is wrong with Mom.â Another ambulance, our fourth visit to St. Maryâs ER since right after Dusicky (All Souls)âthis time a transfer to Little Rock and the most serious prognosis yet.
Wren appeared second, Sunday afternoon while I blessed my hromniÄka at the creek on Brigidâs Day/Hromnice Eve. The snow was still thick and I had to do the ritual on the bank above my altar stone. My heart was heavy and my attention scattered. My brother-in-law had said wait, donât come yet, get some rest, theyâve sedated her and she wonât know youâre here.
Monday was our turn to sit with Mom down in Little Rock. The neurologist broke the news to us that the brain injury from the stroke was significant and devastating and I found a hall to begin making calls.
Still, they had stopped the sedation and she squeezed my hand to questions and knew I was there. There was still the possibility that she would be bedridden but live.
Vulture appeared third, on the drive home, near the house I pointed to him spreading his wings in a tree, just as he appeared in the wax on St. Andrewâs Eve.
I pushed myself to make FĂȘte de la Chandeleur/Candlemas/Hromnice crepes for dinner when we got home (Candlemas crepes bring a year of happiness). I slathered mine with jelly from my most sunny foraged fruit, the trifoliate orange. Sunny days, please Mother Mary, Sunny Days.
Tuesday, St. Blaiseâs feast day, I forced myself to stick to my devotional schedule and baked buchty and drunk cooked a beef dish in his and Veles honor while having a minor public break down on tumblr. There were no visitationsâunless you count Streak (she is stitched into the Witchesâ Nights bag) sneering at me as I drunk danced in the woods to Fontaines DC.
I pulled my first Mother Mary card since New Years This card seemed pretty much to be about finding the seeds of growth in suffering.
Mom hadnât responded to anyone else since we had left Monday afternoon.
Wednesday was a nothing day. No rituals to do. Not our turn to be in Little Rock. I itched to go but she was no longer responding and I was told only two were allowed in her room. My sister and brother-in-law from Texas had arrived. It was their time.
Thursday, Saint Agathaâs Day, right after dawn I headed to the creek to gather living water for this yearâs hĂĄtovĂĄ voda and consecrated it and bread and salt for some of the most powerful weather charms of the Czech devotional year. Then we hit the road.
The damage to the brain was even more extensive. My husband and his sister answered the doctor who compassionately broke the news that she would never leave a hospital setting, that no we didnât want to pursue aggressive treatment and it was time for palliative care as my brother-in-law and I held hands.
Armadillo showed up fourth, sounding like a herd of deer, to finally, as I bawled in the woods that night, reveal his lonely self.
On the last day of the Hromnice period I celebrated St. Dorothy by working with my fruit trees and shrubs. I dug beautyberry concentrate that I had made in the autumn out of the freezer and made flavored vinegar, jelly, and syrup. I blessed the trees. I made Thai style chicken in plum sauce.
Last the Good God bird swooped in front of meâthe last of the animals stitched into my Witchesâ Nights amulet bag hammered the walnut tree as I walked by to check the mail, before flying across my path. A pileated woodpecker crossing your path in the Ozarks is seen as rare and powerful sign and a signal of big changes.
Hromnice week has come to an end and once again we prepare to hit the road. They will be removing the ventilator this afternoon after the family says goodbye. My grandfather lasted 20 hours after that point, but we have been told it may only be a couple.
As I write this from my usual place on the sofa where I have sat next to her door for so many months keeping watch, I swear I can hear her breathing, though I know in reality it is only her little dog, her breath traveling down the hall from our room where we have moved her bed.
The alarm for Momâs pain meds goes off on my phone and I delete it.
@jayeltontoro

















