Mom passed away on February 7th. Everyone has been listing her time of death as 4:08pm but it was actually closer to 4:12 pm. I don’t know why I need to clarify that, but those last four minutes mattered. We were there. I was holding her hand. I still remember the wet faces of my… Continue reading epilogue
Mom has been in a semi-comatose state ever since Wednesday evening. She’s at home, in bed, (mostly) peacefully resting. Mostly unconscious and unresponsive. Dying, in other words. It’s something we all knew was coming. Especially during this last month, when her decline suddenly surged from a slow and steady deterioration to noticeable changes with every visit. The last… Continue reading Waiting To Die.
Moving someone with brain cancer requires packing most things at the last possible minute so the Cancer Patient doesn’t get too disorientated. No matter how long you try to delay the packing, be aware that the Brain Cancer Patient will begin looking for their belongings immediately once they’ve been boxed up, no matter how many times they… Continue reading Notes on Moving Someone with Brain Cancer (for the second time in three months)
When I was a little girl, I would sit on my parents’ bed and watch my mother go through her ritual of getting dressed in the morning. She was the type of woman who put a lot of care and effort into what she looked like. I was raised thinking you should always be on a diet and you should always take at least… Continue reading Appearances
Mom wakes me up at 4:30 AM. She wants to take her pills in order to “get back on schedule”. I tell her that if she waits until 7:00 am, she will actually be back on schedule. If she takes them at 4:30 AM, she will have to continue waking up at 4:30 AM… Continue reading Two Stories
It’s been two years since I got the call from my cousin, frantically urging me to get down to the hospital immediately. It’s a strange call to get. Out of the blue, on a Saturday morning. When your only other concern is finishing up the American Express reconciliation for work. When you haven’t spoken to the parent in… Continue reading Anniversaries
“These sheets will never get washed,” I think to myself as I yank the patterned cotton layers from my mattress and toss them in the darkest corner of my closet. I doubt I’ll ever move forward with trading in the imprints of your scent and skin and smiling face for the clean cover up of detergent-… Continue reading Sheets