heartache

It's not all that often, at least since high school, that I have felt that real, true ache in my heart. I was in a dramatic, emotional relationship in high school (those were my feelings, not really the relationship), and my heart ached constantly. And then I found stability and true love with Pete and there have only been a few real aches of the heart since.

I remember that summer my mom was diagnosed. It was the beginning of Pete's 3rd year of medical school, because I remember driving to the hospital and weeping in his arms. I remember them kindly sending him home later to comfort me. I remember that the news all felt bad and it all felt hopeless and tragic. My heart ached with a ferocity I have never felt. I remember seeing her in the hospital after her biopsy of one of the masses in her brain. I just remember thinking how scared she must have been and how I wanted to be there to comfort her. It was her 48th birthday and I bought a cake on my way there. It was hard to see her there, so sad, grief struck, and angry. For a long time my mom struggled with why God did this to her.
I remember pulling over on the way home from that trip when a friend prayed with me on the phone and my heart hurt beyond measure. I felt like it was the end, that we had weeks or months of endless treatment ending in an inevitable death.
So when fall came, and the treatment took her hair and made her skin a mess, I was so proud of my mom for putting on a ridiculous looking wig and going out in public with her bad teenage acne from radiation.  I remember after a year went by, that I was stunned at how she was still here. That I was sad at all she had lost, her endurance, her mobility, her love of life to an extent. But things started to turn around. A new normal arrived. Mom got a little pep in her step again. Probably a denial on all our parts, but the 2nd year of cancer was really pretty good. I started thinking that she could go on with treatment and this new normal for a long, long time.
And then it all changed. Tripping, forgetting, confusion, loss of motor skills, loss of speech, loss of control. It all spiraled out of control so fast. Each trip I grappled with being there for her, wondering if it would be the last time, if she even knew I was there.
Then the call came. The call that hurt my heart more than I expected. Like I thought I was ready or something. You know, after my mom was diagnosed, I had a coworker whose mother had died unexpectedly a few months before tell me that at least I knew it was coming. I was really hurt by that. Like death is easier when you get to see someone suffer. I'm sure he didn't mean that by it, and he was hurting too, but it's just to say that death is hard.
I see these pictures of my mom and want that picture to be more true that the one in my head of her lying in a coffin. A coffin. That's now under ground. The cold, hard, dark ground. That hurts so much. More than I can really tell anyone that hasn't felt it.

I'm so thankful that not everything is hurtful. I'm very thankful I had my mom with me when we did Addy's ultrasound. I'm so thankful she came and stayed with us after Addy was born. It really meant so much to her. I'm really thankful we got to go on all those shopping trips and bake cookies, and everything else we got to do for 2 years after her diagnosis. I'm thankful for all these photos I can look at and remember the beautiful childhood I had.

All those things are good, but dammit I want to call you. I feel really lonely here in this world without my mom.