mom sitting on her bit of the river – 2004
Sometimes it’s so easy to find the right words. They flow out of you faster than you can type and God forbid you find yourself away from the computer (or a pad of paper and pen for you old fashion types) when the words come to you.
I’m not usually one to find myself without something to say. But tonight I find myself needing to say something more than ever and not being able to find a single word… not even a tiny word. Actually, that’s a bit of a fib. I can think of a million things to say right now, but what is appropriate? What words, if said, will make me feel better. What words will be read by you and not make you sit there, sad faced, and at a loss of what to comment if a comment is what is warranted. I’ve be thinking about this for well over an hour.
But still, something is inside me, something I want to scream about, kick about, curse about, cry about, hug my best friends and family about, and just lay in bed and forget about.
Life is a beautiful thing, a beautiful, cruel thing. It’s gives you beauty, smiles, fun, beautiful days, happy times, romantic moments, soft touches, kittens (I love kittens), the perfect gifts, Christmas mornings with family, quiet nights in the most comfortable beds on earth, inspiration, creativity, and love. It also takes those things away from you when least want it to. In a moment, those perfect gifts, those Christmas mornings with family can seem only a memory, a very distant, and not obtainable memory. Sometimes life can take those quiet nights in bed, and turn them upside down. Sometimes life can be a cruel thing.
The past 11 months have been a combination of all of the above. My mom, one of my best friends, was diagnosed with brain cancer. For 11 months she has fought and fought and fought. She has put up with shit (pardon the language, we’re all adults here) that I wouldn’t even wish upon my worst enemies, and she did so with an optimism that I couldn’t even imagine having if I were her. Yes, she fought so hard.
I find it hard to think she’s not fighting right now. I find it hard to believe that my sweet mom has nothing left to fight with. I want to believe that inside, she’s kicking and screaming and she’ll get through this. But I know she’s tired and I know that perhaps it’s time for her to get to sit on the sidelines and enjoy the game that comes next, rather than be battered, battled and played against in a game that seems to be rigged against her. And while tears stream down my cheeks and fall onto my hands while typing this, I know that those tears are a part of life that belongs in the list above.
If I don’t post for a few days, it’s because I’m spending time with my mom, the fighter, during her last moments in the game.
Mom – I love you. I couldn’t have become what I am today without your love, your support, and the amazing way you lived each day.