I can't sleep. I can't get this one thought out of my mind no matter what I do.
I went to the gym and spent 30 minutes on the total fitness machine, but all I could do was watch my mom and try not to cry. I could feel the tears in my throat the whole time we were there, and then when we went grocery shopping I broke down in the sandwich line. I composed myself quickly because she doesn't need to see me upset; I need to be her rock now.
All I kept thinking about is what it will be like, "if", because she is my very best friend. She saved my life when I was a teenager, she's saved my sanity more times then I can count, and she is the one person who I know loves me for what I was an who I've turned into. I can tell her anything and I'll always remain perfect in her eyes. She can see into my soul and hear what I'm really trying to say, and she'll call me out when I need to check my ego. I've spoken to her every day of my life; the only day I didn't talk to her was one day during Spring Break when I was in Mexico. I see her daily and I look forward to hearing her voice in the morning.
She hasn't said anything to my brother so this is something that I have to bear alone for now. I know she's hurting and is scared, but she's a fighter. She's lived through this before and she plans on doing it again. She is a true Survivor.
I found this today while going through some things:
Monday, February 14, 2005
Angel Girl
Every year on my birthday I get my mother a card. Let's face it; I didn't really do much to get here so I think she's the one who deserves the recognition. She created me, gave me a chance, and allowed me to be a part of her life. I don't know of anything more a person can do for another!
It's funny that I think of my mother as a part of me when, in fact, I'm more a part of her. I don't have many of her physical attributes but my beliefs, mannerisms, and even speech patterns are so much like hers I find myself thinking, "If I didn't know better I'd swear Mom was speaking through me" on more than a few occasions. It used to scare me, thinking that I was becoming her, but as I grow older it makes me proud every time a Mom-ism flies out of my mouth without conscious thought.
I sit here thinking about her; this brave, wonderful woman whom I've come to admire more with each passing season and with each mother-to-daughter talk. I think of her there in her hospital bed and wish I could repay her for every skinned-knee kiss, every smoothed- back hair moment, every smile of pride, and for all the times I've looked into her eyes and seen total acceptance and love.
If I could I would take every one of those memories, weave them together, and create a blanket. I'd wrap myself in it to keep warm because I know that if she's taken from me I'll be colder than I've ever been before. I'd burrow into it's comfort and close my eyes and become a little girl again. I'd become HER little girl again because, once your mommy is gone, there's no one who can make you feel like she did. I still want to be my mommy's little angel girl or, as she still calls me to this day, her Angel Puss.
Someone once told me that I should give that to her to read, but I never did. I'm not one to show emotions but maybe now I should.
