The death
certificate said “cancer”.
There were
other causes but to see the harshness of the word
simply scrawled on the form created a tunnel vision
to the word. No peripheral images or sounds
interrupted my focus. Another person dies from
cancer - my mother. I stared at this sheet of paper
for a very long time. I recalled my trip to Florida
from a few weeks earlier. My mom was a shell of a
person. No more hugs, no more kisses, no more words
came from her. She could only struggle with a gasp
of breath to respond to a yes or no question. Tears
flowed as I was challenged to tell her how I loved
her, how we (her family) would be OK and to let her
know she could let go. I told her that God was ready
for her. I took photos from a nearby display and
placed them above her bed. Leaving her room for the
final time was the hardest thing I had ever done. I
was leaving a living person. I was leaving a person
who was going to die. I was leaving my mom for the
final time. Walking out the door into the sunshine,
I was incredibly angry. In the parking lot, I swung
and kicked at the air. I cried. I prayed. Then, I
hugged my brother and we reminded ourselves that
soon she would be with God and the man she loved,
our father. We drove away.
I informed
my close friends of my lost. Bud, being the one who
delivered the idea (a gift to me) of identifying a
challenging section of the PMC course as "Marcel's
Hill" delivered another amazing gift. Bud said, “Now
there is ‘Doris’ Descent’".
Another
August weekend will soon be here and I look forward to my
tears of love as we ride smoothly down this stretch
of road. I will celebrate my love for my mom.
