The gifts my mom gave me

Been so very long since I posted.

So much has happened.

Life felt like it moved in slow motion, then hyper-speed.

I wrote the entry below less than two weeks after we bured my mom. She had been diagnosed on February 9, 2013 with cancer, after emergency surgery found a massive blockage in her colon and throughout her abdominal wall.

It was the most difficult year of my entire life.

I will process it, I am sure, as the days go on and I am equally sure my perspective will shift as I do.

I am glad I took the time to write some inital thoughts though. Fresh and present from what I was feeling.

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Gifts my mom gave me:

Well, over my 42 years she gave me many gifts: creativity, knowledge, strength and caring, independence.

Throughout her illness she gave me many more. She trusted me enough to talk about what she wanted, some of how she was feeling. But mom being mom, she never moaned or complained: these were the cards she was dealt - certainly not what had been planned but she would work with them nonetheless.

In one of our last visits over thanksgiving, I went to see her early one morning, obviously struggling. She could tell in my eyes and in my voice  that I was not doing well. She said to me "I am still your mother, let me help you" and as much as I didn't want to burden her with MY problems, I honored her request and shared.

And so it was during the next weekend when I was back to see her, she was forceful in her direction. As much as she loved my visits, she worried when I traveled. She sent me home on Sunday, with a kiss, telling me I needed to go. At the time i didn't realize it was goodbye, but I think she did.

I always knew she wouldn't want me to be there for her death. As surprising as the revelation was to her that I could be tough AND strong throughout her illness, she knew how sensitive I am. I can only imagine she wanted to spare me from the difficult moment.

My dad was with her at the final moment, and as she asked him to "let me go" I know she wanted him to be the one with her. It was a testament of her love for him but I also think a challenge to him. I get my sensitivity from him. This was her way of telling him that he can handle it. All of it.

And so as I move forward in this fog of grief, I try to think that her challenge to me is continue to live strongly and not let my sensitivity paralyze me.

If i can honour her memory by doing that, I will certainly do my best.