The movie about time (while some language is rough) had me crying the other night. I literally cried into my homemade tacos during the scene where the son & his family leave his father knowing that he only has weeks left to live.
I get it. I too had to leave my mother…I couldn’t stay and walking away from her knowing it would be the last time I would see her. It was the hardest moment of my life. I wanted to flee. I wanted to fight. I wanted her to live. Regret in not staying until she died still haunts me to this day. She died 8/5/2013 at the age of 69.
Two days into our visit (we drove like the wind from Florida to Nevada to get there in time), her hazy morphine eyes looked into mine and she asked, “Do you think I really have cancer and am going to die? Do you think there is a chance the doctor’s are wrong?” Her twinkle of hope floats in my ears, her voice raspy and dry. I smile at her sadly looking at her abdomen that in just these few short days has doubled in size from the cancer that is ravaging her body. I swallow hysterical tears, clear my throat…look into her eyes, “I think they might be right about this one Mom.”…. I’m dying inside when the words come out. She blinks rapidly, trying to clear her vision. “Yeah… I was just kind-of hoping…” Me too Mama, me too.
Her box of jewelry and trinkets arrived on 12/1/14 the same day my brother Scott died. I looked at the box and knew immediately what it was. Petrified I opened it and there she was…every piece of jewelry holding a memory, a moment of time within my childhood. A laugh, a giggle, a thought. And then… her perfume hit me… all the velvet boxes and cloth sacks smelling of her perfume. I inhaled and cried…quickly closing the box in effort to preserve her and contain that smell and those moments that right now… I simply can’t deal with.
I miss her. Every day is precious and fleeting. Am I living my now? These things I think about when I look at that box and of the woman who died too soon. My friends…we must continue to live.