Me and my mom, my best friend.

Me and my mom, my best friend.

Monday, January 23, 2012

The Stuff That Dreams Are Made Of

Last night I had a beautifully horrible dream. You may think those words being used to describe the same thing is a contradiciton, but hear me out. The part that made my heart skip a beat and ended the dream all together is the one I want to share with you now.

I am walking down mama's hall. It's the old paneling walls. Not the freshly painted ones that she has now. I am slowly looking at the details of the house I have lived in my entire life. This is a familiar path. I am not worried. I am not scared. I am light. I make it to the doorway and I look in my room. My old furniture is in there. The old antique white bed that I slept in as a kid. All of my stuff that has been moved out over the years was back in it's old home. There in my bed was something wonderfully heartbreaking. It was mama. She was asleep. I assume it had been a hard day at David's and her legs were achy. So she decided to lay in my bed (she used to NEVER sleep in her room) and take a nap. Her body was plump. Her beautiful dark hair was back. The intricate details of my dream even revealed her gray roots, and I thought to myself- "we need a salon day". She had one healthy leg out of the covers like always. She was sleeping peacefully. I switched the light off, pulled the door to, and walked back down the hall. Before I could make it to the end of the hall, where my "normal" life awaited, I woke up and rejoined reality where fear, worry, and anxiety greeted me with a familiar and dark heaviness haunting my heart for the remainder of the night.

Mom's not doing good. I mean, things are pretty bad. She slept the ENTIRE day yesterday. AFTER sleeping the ENTIRE night before. She was supposed to join me at church, but she couldn't make herself get up. I cried through the sermon. I went by afterwards and I was really upset at her appearance. She assured me that she was fine, "just a little tired". My brothers watched a ballgame together at her house, so I felt comfortable being home with Michael (who was actually off work) and the girls. Throughout the rest of the day I called numerous times, only to hear "she's asleep". I felt nauseous all day. Perhaps Mili hasn't left enough room in my belly for food, or perhaps my nerves are completely shot....Either way, I have been vomiting alot. I am struggling to keep anything down at all. Mom is quiet. Her cough is horrible. She continues to smoke. I asked her yesterday if she could, please, cut back a bit because of how horrible her cough sounds. She agreed that she knew she was smoking too much. I never ask her to quit anymore. It doesn't do any good. I don't pretend to know what it is like to be a 30 year smoker who smokes to deal with stress, then is delivered the very stressful news that my life could end soon. I just want her as well as possible.

Last night, I sent her a text asking her how she was doing. I was surprised when I received a response. We talked back and forth for a while, before I told her I was really worried about her. She said "baby just relax, and enjoy this time". Easier said than done.

This morning I have been calling, but once again, there is no answer. Amber called me as she was headed to town, and said she was going to stop by there. I gave her a list of mama's meds that needed to be administered. She is supposed to be calling me back in a minute with an update.

I know I will head over there soon, as always. But the thing that is really eating away at me today, is the feeling that I will never walk down that old hall, into my old room, and see my old mom....Ever again. I will never smell those old homey smells or feel that incredible "everything is okay" feeling, ever again. It feels I will never make it to the end of that hall and get my life back. It is a thought that breaks my heart into a million pieces. I want it back. I want it all back.

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