There is no feeling.
I wake up waiting.
Go through the day.
I eat, sleep, take care of my responsibilities.
My heart is in my throat.
I have everything to say, but am wordless.
I wash clothes and sweep the floor.
Exercise. Shop. Clean the garage.
I call Mom.
“How are you and the Princess doing?” she asks.
“Good,” I answer.
“How are you, Mom?”
“Lazy,” she answers. “Very lazy.”
“Rest, Mom,” I tell her.
“Save your strength and rest.”
“Yes,” she answers. “Love you, sweetheart. Love you.”
“Love you, too, Mom.”
Her time in this life is short. She’s ready. Her body is spent. She does everything to keep her mind sharp; does everything to show her children and loved ones that’s she’s still present and still Mom.
But the cancer and leukemia are slowly robbing her of her self-hood; of her being.
And I am not ready to say good-bye; not ready to fly solo, but solo I must try.
When you’re ready, Mom, I’ll be ready, too.
I’ll be ready, too…