Things change and yet they stay eerily the same. I started this weblog to work out my feelings about my brother's tragic early death and raising my daughter. Rosy optimism in the wake of horrible pain. As time passed, and it does, I felt stronger and got more busy. Started working quite a bit and then, of course, there's my daughter, who is now almost 2 and a half. So I stopped posting.
Then sadness again. I can't retread it all right now, but suffice to say that my mother is very ill. I knew it, I could tell she was doing badly. She didn't look right for weeks. And then there was no early morning call, endearingly and annoyingly asking how little Mia was that morning. And then I couldn't reach them and I knew something was wrong. See, I thought my mother had just succumbed to grief, the energy and pain it took to lose a beloved son. But instead it was cancer. She is being operated for a brain tumor tomorrow that, if successful, will help to extend her life for up to eight months.
My dad thinks that eight months is like winning the lottery. My mother doesn't see the point. She feels terminal and wants to go. A couple of months ago, I asked my mother why she was with my dad. I just didn't see them together. But now I see my dad, trying valiantly to buoy my mother's spirits, while he grieves for the family that is disappearing in front of his eyes, and I get it.
I love my mom, and I promised her two things. I won't let her experience pain and I won't let her lose her dignity. I just hope I can keep that promise.
