I haven’t written anything in many months. There have been times when I thought I’d write, but there was only one thing on my mind that I did not want to explore. I still don’t want to talk about it, but I think I have to. I love to avoid difficult feelings and conversations, but where has it gotten me?
My mother was diagnosed with stage four liver cancer in August 2023. She was ready to fight it, and at one point, things were slowly turning around. And then in the first week of February, her oncologist told her that she was too weak for chemo and needed to go into hospice. Two weeks later, she was gone. We watched her take her last breath in disbelief. She was 57 years old.
Watching her go through this was harrowing. Watching her die was horrible. Burying her was a nightmare. I not only lost my mom but two mother figures who are mad at me for some reason and apparently don’t love me anymore. Crows visit my balcony now. They usually like to keep their distance. I really don’t understand any of it. The only person I want to talk to, the one person who would know what to do is no longer on Earth. It’s so unfair. I know Mom would disagree, but I wish it were me.
I wrote that yesterday. I don’t wish I were dead. I feel incredibly lucky to not only be alive but [mostly] thriving. I’m living her wildest dream, and that brings me some peace. Sometimes I have moments of real joy and feel weird about it. How can I be sitting here in the sun, smiling like an idiot when my mom is gone and my family is in mourning? I don’t know, but my mom sang karaoke with my cousins a week before she passed, so I think I’m doing it right. Here come the tears. She talked and sang and laughed until she couldn’t anymore. I swore I heard the tiniest giggle at a stupid joke I made on her last day. My mom chose joy every single time there was a choice. And according to her, there was always a choice. It wasn’t always easy; she had hard times like anyone else, but she refused to “sit around being miserable” when she could be thanking God for everything she did have. She didn’t let anything steal her joy, and it’s my favorite thing about her. I want to be someone who chooses joy, too.
Writing this little bit about my mom has been challenging, and I didn’t even get into the nitty gritty details of watching her go through cancer. I don’t think I ever will. Living it was enough. But I’m trying to get back into writing, and the only way is to jump back in, let the shock of the cold wash over me, and get acclimated.
I’ll return to weekly posts. If not a whole blog entry, I might post a note or a question for the community to discuss. Writers write, even when they avoid it. But it’s time to stop avoiding difficult things.