Don't Blink

"I have restless legs, but I'm too tired to move around. I am hurting all over. Today is the first day I feel better, but I feel horrible. I saw a Small Cell pamphlet laying on the table and I took it and threw it across the room. I just don't understand. I can't stop coughing. I am coughing and gagging and vomiting over and over. I feel sick to my stomach and I miss my daddy so much. I want to go see him, but he is not there". My mom began to cry. "I'll let you go. I'll call you later. I love you, bye". The conversation ended just like that. She had hung up the phone. She actually sounded better to me, as far as being hoarse and weak sounding. I guess without the sickness to distract her, her mind was free to focus on someone who has played a huge role in her life, and the fact that he is now in Heaven, (her daddy). I knew when she hung up the phone that today was not going to be a good day, regardless of her health status. She is missing her daddy. She is missing her health. She is missing our old life. On top of that, I am really scared that my mom is giving up. She is not smiling. She is not laughing. It was easy to hope for a miracle, when her hope and faith was in a good place. Now my mind is going to a sad place. I am overwhelmed by the fear that I, too, will be suffering from the pain of a lost parent. I am not ready. I am not ready to feel what she is feeling. Where is her fight? Are these just "down days", or has she given up? Oh please God, don't let her give up.

She did call me back. She called me and said "I think I am fixin' to go to Daddy's. I just want to go sit on his porch. I miss it. I miss the house." Being a schedule stickler, I asked her to wait until after nap time, and we would ride with her. I feared what this trip would do to her. I feared what it would do to me and my girls. Since their Papaw The Great has passed, Neva asks me daily if we can go see him. She asks if we can go to Heaven to see him and the angels. It is tough to hear for a "Papaw's girl" like me. I truly never know how to respond when she asks. After nap time, we went and picked up mom and started off on a route that my car is trained to take. The route to Taylorsville. A town small and charming and full of ones that I hold dear. I don't even have to think--my car knows the way. As we were driving, I felt myself forget about moms cancer. I felt myself looking forward to seeing Papaw and "getting back to normal". There it was, normalcy. Me, mom, Neva and Nori stopping to get a drink and snacks on our way to Papaw's house. I think mom was doing the same thing. She was forgetting. She was hoping. Hoping he'd be sitting there on the porch when we pulled up. She wasn't crying anymore. She was actually smiling. We were talking and joking just like all the times before. You know when you catch a hint of a familiar smell and it takes you to another time? Or when You hear a song and find yourself 15 years younger? Then the smell fades and the song ends, and there you are. The smile inexplicably fades from your face and you are back in the present. If it happened once today, it happened 20 times. I kept forgetting everything. Forgetting she is sick. Forgetting he is gone. There is nothing worse than remembering. It's like finding out for the first time over and over again.

When we pulled up at his house, that light an airy feeling from the past was replaced with sadness as we saw some of Papaw's things out on the porch. My uncle, Papaw's only son, is moving in the house. His wife is painting and making the home their own. There was Papaw's Christmas tree. The tree I remember sitting in Mamaw and Papaw's living room when I was a very small child. There were decorations that dwelled on his walls for years lying on the floor, seemingly sad to have lost the cozy spot that they called "home" for so long. The room where we spent countless holidays was empty. Furniture gone, prepped for it's face lift. The kitchen where my girls found there weekly snacks while digging in the fridge was empty and sporting a brand new coat of paint. The den where we spent the winter days that did not allow us to go outside was empty. Full of furniture but empty of the warmth and comfort that it once possessed. Neva caught me staring at the room where we spent so many days. "That is where Papaw the Great sits" she said, pointing to his recliner. "hey!" she said with a shocked tone "it's green! Why is it green?" It hit me. She has never really seen that chair without her Papaw sitting in it. That was his chair. We always looked at him, not the chair. I walked around and tried to soak up what was left of "Papaw's House". It is no longer his and soon, there will be nothing left to remind us of those wonderful times in the past. Nothing but the memories burned into our hearts. We left quickly, only staying about 10 min or so. I found it very painful. However, I could tell that seeing the house in transition to becoming so very different, offered my mom some much needed closure.

On the way home, I could tell that she felt a little better. I know she misses him. The thought of losing my mom petrifies me. I can't imagine the actual feeling of a lost parent. I want to comfort her, and I try. But I have to fight back my anger to do so. Why doesn't she take better care of herself? Does she want us to feel the pain that she is feeling? Every time she refuses to take her medicine, she takes a moment away from us. Every time she misses a meal or refuses to drink, she takes away a memory--because she is too weak to interact with us. I want her to fight again. I don't want to lose ANY time with her. How can I help her? I don't know if I can live without my mom. I need her SO much. She is my best friend. I miss my Papaw too. I want life the way it was.  I feel like I am losing everything and everyone. I know now is the time that I need to rely on my new found faith. I am trying. I will pray and hopefully I will be in a better place tomorrow. In the mean time, please, please cherish what you have. I have unfortunately realized that all that you hold dear and some things you take advantage of can change in the blink of an eye and be stripped away. If you are reading this, Call your daddy, just let him know you are thinking of him. If you are lucky enough to have a grandparent still living, go see them tomorrow. A five minute visit, will mean the world to them. Last but certainly not least, make an effort to visit your mama more often. Hug her. A good hug. A long hug. Tell her you love her. Thank her for her. Do it EVERY time you see her. And whatever you do, don't blink.