Foxy sat on my couch, sort of propped up like a person who's body is riddled with Cancer, and said, "Honey, can you help me with something?"
I answered like any daughter would, "Of course, Mom. What is it?"
She replied, "Well, I've been thinking about getting gift cards for the grand kids for Christmas...you know, so that it's all taken care of for Dad. I'm thinking I should get them from Safeway, because when you buy a certain amount there, Safeway gives you money off of gas. That would be nice for Dad, don't you think?"
I just sat across from her, stunned with silence, tears welling up from a pool deep within my soul. My thought bubble said, "We don't need gift cards, Mom. We don't want anything from you. Can you please just stay?"
I can't ask her to do the impossible, nor would I want her to, based on the amount of pain she is in. But I have these moments, where I feel lost when I think about life without her. She grew me with her own body. She loved me before she even knew I was going to have a gigantically huge mouth. She loved me, and has continued to love me, with all of my many imperfections, without judgement. Unconditionally. I am already missing her, and yet, she's still here.
"Yes Mom. I can do that. We'll figure that out, okay?"
I have learned so much from my Mom in the last two years. She has been so full of God's grace, that I respect her more than I will ever be able to express with my words or actions. She has literally been through Hell and back: several rounds of invasive Chemo and Radiation, not to mention, half of her lung was removed. And all the while, she has never complained. Not once.
She has endured, suffered, and has done so, with dignity. I look up to her as my Mom, but more importantly, a dear spirit, that completes me, and makes me want to strive to be a better person every single day that I wake up.
This last weekend, I drove to Santa Rosa to visit with her. When I arrived, she was resting in bed. I climbed in beside her, and we just talked about nothing and everything. I tell her what's on my heart, even if it's too much information.
"Lately Mom, my Crock Pot has seen more action than Tom...I gotta work on that," because although it's true, if I can make her laugh, it's like the Best.Thing.Ever.
I pulled up a video on my phone of Chris Hemsworth, so she too, could experience the magic of Thor. Foxy agreed, when I said, "I swear to God, if I was married to this guy, I would have like 15 kids. I'm going to start calling Tom, Thor."
My Mom saves up all of her energy to go to Mass on Saturday night, at a parish that my folks have fallen in love with, St.Rose. As Mom and Dad entered the church, several parishioners embraced my Mom, saying things, like "Prayers and strength for you Carol."
I stood humbled, by how many other lives my parents have touched. And how very much, they are loved. I could barely make eye contact, with these kind strangers, for fear, or breaking down into sobs.
Each time the thought, that this could be the last time at church with Mama, popped into my head, I pushed it away before it could consume me. I am working really hard on just "being in the moment". But I continue to struggle with it.
And every time I tuck her into bed at night, I start to cry. Foxy says, "Now don't do that, Michelle. Don't do it."
What I want to tell her, but can never muster because I'm a sobbing train wreck, is, "Thank you for being my Mom. Thank you for loving me, even when I was broken, and wasn't sure I would find my way. You have changed me forever for the better. I love you, Mama."
But I think she knows.
In fact, I know she does.
