Tomorrow.

You know, I've tried to write this post about five times. It goes like this:

I write.

I read.

I hate.

I delete.

Then, I feel frustrated and blocked and I walk away.  As is my custom, I have lots to say. There are lots of posts in the queue behind this one.  Seems like they can't get by.  This one has to get its ass out of the way.  Did you ever have that feeling?

So, I'm up at five o'clock in the AM, VOLUNTARILY for fuck's sake (everyone! is sleeping! but me!) and here I sit, trying to tell you what's going on in my head.  Maybe trying to explain it to myself.

Tomorrow is my mother's birthday.

It [snuck] sneaked up on me this year.

I wish that her birthday was at another time of year, maybe.  But as it is, it is the kickoff for the Season of Dark.  It marks the beginning of the end for her.  And for us. 

Five years ago, The Little Sister and I went to see her for a surprise Birthday Visit.  It was highly unusual and she was super excited.  During our time home, she complained of back pain, thinking that she pulled a muscle in her water aerobics class.  She felt good otherwise, though, and we had a great visit.  She was upbeat and happy for the most part.

But the retrospect is hard to get over, see.  As grateful as I am that we were there, that we got to celebrate what turned out to be her last birthday, it's so difficult to shake the realization that she had already begun the process of dying and none of us knew it.

The pain in her back, treated with muscle relaxers and some physical therapy, turned out to be small cell lung cancer that had spread to her spine.  The weight loss that she attributed to faithfulness to the gym was also probably partially due to cancer. (BTW, FYI, PSA: not a great form of weight control no matter how effective.) I have gone over and over and over those last few days that we spent together, finding and remembering 'clues' that no one picked up.

Soon after I got home, the process started in earnest.  Things began unfolding rapidly and she was hospitalized, still without awareness of the thing that was going so terribly wrong in her body.  The next time I saw her, she was hospitalized and psychotic from kidney failure.  And as a lot of you know (or could guess) it went rapidly downhill from there. 

It's not that I would have wanted to know any earlier but thinking back to that visit is like watching a movie.  A movie in which the main character is blithely enjoying herself while you, the viewer, know that the car accident or the man around the corner with a knife or the earthquake or the shipwreck is coming.

So, I'm kinda wishing that her birthday was in August, is what I'm saying.  Wishing that it wasn't so directly connected to the sick and dying time.  I'm wishing, too, that there wasn't such a memorable beginning of the Season of Dark. 

I'm thinking that the memory of my own shipwreck may be more easily set on a current if it wasn't attached to such a huge fucking anchor.

Comments

[Clink]

I was just thinking about you, and this, yesterday. That story not with standing...I'm 13 years in. And I can honestly say the dark times never get any easier (which I am so sorry about, I wish I could tell you it would), it just gets different. And somewhere in that difference there comes a peace with the things that always made me angry. And a fury at the things I always excepted. We never get over it NG, we just go on with it.
Now go hug your babies!

[Caren]

I'm so sorry.

[Julie @ The Mom Slant]

I hope the sun comes out often in this Season of Dark.

[shriek house]

Catching up late... and adding condolences and hugs to the mix. Lighting a candle for you in hopes its small flame will push back some of the Dark.

[Kelly]

Hugs to you, babe.

[amanda]

I wish you were still standing in front of me, all twinkly and radiant, and that I could be less shy and just hug you and cement the friendship so i wouldn't feel like such a toolish hanger-on sending hugs now. Gah. For what it's worth, the articulation of your pain and reliving is fucking brilliant.

[Lori]

love you t

[amanda]

This upcoming Monday is the 10 year anniversary of my father's death. It is a dark time for me as well. I am so sorry that you are hurting. xo

[AG]

My FIL just passed on this past Saturday from complications of his COPD, pneumonia and a complication of pneumonia called ARDS. My MIL made the decision to terminate care after the family had said their goodbyes. His younger sister died last Valentine's Day from complication of diabetes. Although we had accepted his loss and welcome his freedom from pain and illness, it's still the hardest thing I've ever done.

What a loving tribute to your mother you have written. You honor her memory in so many ways. Thank you for writing this, for all of us who must face our own Season of Dark.

[magpie]

Oh, hon. I know. My mother too, complained of back pain, turned out to be metastasized lung cancer. I still remember that phone call - she was too embarrassed to call, so she had her doctor call me.

Thinking of you.

[Stacie]

I am so sorry. It is a hard time for a lot of people, and I hope for some sunshine in all of our lives.

[Shelly]

Oh, I'm so sorry. Hugs to you.

[-R-]

I'm sorry.

This is really beautifully written.

[Chibi Jeebs]

I'm so sorry, love. Thinking about you and sending love. <3

[Catherine Fraser]

hugs to you. I am so sorry you are in this season of life. I will be entering my own season of dark next October for the first time. My husband celebrated his 44th birthday last year totally healthy. 18 days later, he passed away on Halloween from complications of H1N1. I will be thinking of you and your sister in the coming days.

[the new girl]

@midlifemama: No, it's true. We were also able to do a lot of tying up of loose ends because she was incredibly lucid, right up until the end. We were all very grateful for that. She also knew that both my sister and I were taking leaves of absence to care for her. She felt incredible love and support in her final weeks and for that, I feel as satisfied as possible with how it all worked out. (I'm a fellow-silver-lining-finder.)

@Swistle: I have to stop and think to really remember which month she died in. March or April, March or April? It sucks, though, that I never forget when it ALL STARTED.

[Swistle]

Ack, that's bad. I do think it makes things harder/easier where the anniversaries are of various death-related events: the finding out, the final phone call, all of that. I always feel so much awfuller for people when they lose someone on their birthday or at Christmas or whatevs.

[MidLifeMama]

I tend to be that person who sees the ray of sunshine inside the cloud, which is thoroughly annoying to pretty much EVERYONE, but I will risk saying that I am glad your mother had that chance to enjoy your visit on her birthday without knowing what she was about to go through. She had a chance to be happy and feel loved by her daughters in a way that she could not have if she knew the car was going to slam into the tree around the next turn. It doesn't change that it is a giant suck hole of sadness that she had this stupid disease and died, but she did have that moment. And she would not exchange it for anything I am sure.

[Shelly]

Hugs!

[Gretchen]

Thank you for writing about this. I appreciate hearing your experience of your Mom and how you dealt then and deal with it now. It may sound silly to someone on your side of it, but I am sort of trying to prepare myself for my own Mom's death (cancer, blah, blah, doom, someday....) I know intellectually we can't ever really prepare, and yet I find that very few talk openly about these hard realities. So I read these posts closely to see if I can see myself there. And, of course, I see you and who I know you to be from this internet version of you - funny, irreverent, responsible, and more. And still, I see a possible glimmer of what it might be like and how I might react. And when I realize it won't always be my whole world and there are other things in life and I won't get swallowed up. I am hopeful. And slightly less scared. Juuuust slightly.

So, again. Thank you.

[Julie @ Mommy Said What?]

We don't know each other at all, but right now, that doesn't seem to matter one little bit. My heart goes out to you. Hindsight and instances of dramatic irony are a bitch. Do your wallowing and mourn as necessary, but know that you'll come out of this on the other end just fine.

[Jayme]

I can't even imagine going through what you have gone though. I wish you the strength to make it through this trying time. I also hope that you can remember all of the happy moments that you shared with her. I am sure that is what she would want you to remember. *HUGS*

[Kader]

Strangely, I was thinking about your posts about your mom this morning w/o realizing you were about to enter the season of dark. I'm so sorry it's hard--how could it be anything but.
Hope your beautiful and spirited (!) kids are able to break up the darkness frequently...

[Manic Mommy]

No words. Just sending you strength and love.

[Tania - Chicky Chicky Baby]

From another who is deep into her own Season of Dark, much love to you. Much, much love.

[Mama Bub]

There's always something, right? Some awful association, something good tainted by the bad. I'm sorry it's all tangled up for you.

[lora]

Love to you.

[Fiona Picklebottom]

So sorry. Also so glad you had such a nice and fun last birthday with her.

[Keila]

I am so very sorry! Know that you and your sister are getting huge hugs from me...

Much Love during this difficult time

Kayla

[Heather-Domestic Extraordinaire]

with my dad passing away so rapidly from what we thought was a cold, I can understand. Christmas is especially hard as he went into the hospital on Christmas Eve and never came home.

Thinking of you xo

[slouchy]

(you). i understand, i think, a little. the anniversary i dread is coming up in april. bah.

[The Domestic Goddess]

I'm so sorry. I cannot even imagine how hard it is and how hard it has been. We will be thinking of you tomorrow and sending all good thoughts your way.