It’s not about me, it’s about my Mother, it’s about her losing her grip on her life.
It’s about her being scared, it’s about her wanting to reach out to those she loves and pull them in because she doesn’t think she has that much time left.
It’s for once in her life about her.
Yet tonight I stood in front of her and told her I couldn’t do it anymore, she asked me what I meant, what it was that I wanted, what she could do to make it better for me.
I screamed, my body shook, my heart made a lump in my throat and I thought I was going to suffocate.
And I said it: I just want my Mom back, I just want this fucking illness to go away.
I could see myself saying it, and I tried to stop myself mid sentence as the words escaped my mouth I was having a silent conversation with myself: ” Shut up, this isn’t about you, this is about her, it’s your turn to be strong , its your turn to be there for her. But the words still came out, they felt vile and like poison when they left my mouth like my own weakness exposed on my lips.
And she looked at me like she used to and stretched her arm across the table to touch the top of my hand and said ” Me to kid, me to.”
Split seconds where she is still my Mother , I am still her child, I will take them.