Not a day goes by that I don't cry, this whole week has been nothing but what I wish was just a bad dream. I got the call on Monday that my mom was in the hospital, and that this time things did not look good, she had been intibated and her lung capacity had shrunken to a mere twenty percent. I have known for a couple of years now that this day would come, that eventually her poor body would just begin to wane, but the thing is you always think it will happen later than sooner. As much as I knew, I was not ready, for God's sake I am in Australia, there is absolutely nothing I can do from here. I sought comfort in those closest to me, my sister and my boyfriend. My sister whom deserves special notation here wrapped her arms around me and offered me the most heartfelt hug I think I have ever received. I think in that moment we both knew that from here on out life was going to be harder, that this is only the beginning of the long road of trials minus the tribulations that awaits us as a family. In that hug we began the process of grievance that starts long before a death that you know is inevitable. And Dustin, you have been a rock, while everything around me changes, moves, and distorts you are my constant, you are the wiper of tears, the one that holds me up when my knees want nothing more than to give out.
I am not ready to be parentless, I am not ready to pick up the phone, dial her number and get a disconnected notice, I am not ready for life without her. I wanted her to be present at my wedding, if ever I chose to have children I wanted her to proudly coo over them, I wanted her to be proud of me when, if ever I decided what it is I want to do with my life. I know that she is not gone yet, that I should probably have a more optimistic outlook on things, which is true, however I know that from here on out things get harder and more serious. Hospital visits from here on out are no longer one week in one week out stints, but serious test-filled weeks, filled with bad news and last shreds of hope.
Everyday I hope a little harder that things will begin to look up a little bit, everyday I think of her, so small in that hospital bed with a tube shoved down her throat, everyday I wish that she gets a tomorrow.
I am not ready to be parentless, I am not ready to pick up the phone, dial her number and get a disconnected notice, I am not ready for life without her. I wanted her to be present at my wedding, if ever I chose to have children I wanted her to proudly coo over them, I wanted her to be proud of me when, if ever I decided what it is I want to do with my life. I know that she is not gone yet, that I should probably have a more optimistic outlook on things, which is true, however I know that from here on out things get harder and more serious. Hospital visits from here on out are no longer one week in one week out stints, but serious test-filled weeks, filled with bad news and last shreds of hope.
Everyday I hope a little harder that things will begin to look up a little bit, everyday I think of her, so small in that hospital bed with a tube shoved down her throat, everyday I wish that she gets a tomorrow.
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