As I signed on today, I was surprised to see that many people are still reading this blog. Of course, I have not been posting very regularly. But, that is not because my mom has escaped my mind or my heart. This grief is suffocating at times. And, it is a huge energy zapper. This week has been slightly better. And, it is my hope to start writing again, more regularly. I have some very important things to share. Today, is just a simple letter to my mom.
Dear Mom,
Yesterday I was thinking about all of our triumphs during our year with cancer. At first I was very sad, thinking that somehow your death erased our triumphant moments. But, then I realized that is impossible.
Nothing can take away your phone call, telling me that your esophagus was back to its normal size. Did you know that after that phone call, I ran out to the warehouse (I was at work) and gave Charlie the biggest hug ever? I also went out back, behind the warehouse and yelled and screamed for joy! There was no hiding my elation.
Or how about the time in October, a couple weeks after we learned of the mets to the brain, you and I went to the zoo and then to a check-up with Dr. Ritch? We saw the doctor in the hall who told us that you only had months to live. I looked him square in the eye and said, "Look at my mom! Look at how wonderful she is doing!!" Then we rode all the way to Barnes and Noble with the sun roof open.
One of my favorite triumphant moments was the time you drove yourself to church. It was late fall and you were tired of waiting for Dad. So, you hopped in the car and drove yourself to church. I was waiting in the parking lot for Dad to drop you off. And, you pulled up, driving yourself! I jumped up and down in the parking lot, pumping my fists in the air. You were wearing a bright pink scarf.
Then there was the time that you butt-bumped yourself all the way down the stairs to your basement. You were having difficulty walking and stairs were especially hard. But, you were insistent on getting downstairs to go through some of your things with Craig. I can remember Conrad standing at the bottom of the stairs cheering, "Go Mimi, Go! Go Mimi, Go!" You have the greatest fan club in the world.
Right before Christmas, we had a very important appointment with your doctors to see how the cancer was responding to the treatments. You were very afraid that day, thinking that we would receive bad news. But, I will never forget the look on your face when all of your doctors told you that the news couldn't be better. Many of the tumors were no longer visible. The other had shrunk significantly. You were so surprised. Your eyebrows were raised, and mouth open in a smile of astonishment. You, Dad and I went for lunch at Oscars after that appointment. Christmas music never sounded more wonderful.
Love,
kerry
No comments:
Post a Comment