It occurred to me just now that four years ago today, January 3, was probably the last time I saw my mom as a somewhat independent person. The last time I had a coherent conversation with her. Four years ago today she went into the hospital, because she felt like she was having a stroke. She left a couple weeks later doped up on pain killers and with a death sentence brought on by multiple myeloma. Four years is a long time not to speak to your mom. She may have died almost two months later, but her death began that day. The death of who she really was.
I think about it now as something factual and scientific, but that’s just now. Sometimes I get really sad, sometimes I get really mad. Sometimes I get happy that at the very least she is done suffering and sometimes I count the moments until I can be with her again. Death brings with it a jumble of emotions, especially the kind of death that cancer brings. Today I’m a bit numb. Sometimes the emotions are just too much.