The Beauty of Glue
Today is my Mom's birthday. She would have been 85.
Almost 13 years ago we sat in the hospital waiting for the moment for her to be released from her earthly pain. Ovarian cancer is a brutal bitch that, while spending years quietly taking over cell after cell, when finally making itself known, makes sure that you don't spend another waking moment without the knowledge it is there.
I am so thankful for having my family to go through that moment together. In that tiny hospital room, with my beautiful mom struggling for each ragged breath, and her thoughts being somewhere else (or was she still thinking....who knows the mysteries of death), there was 9 or 10 of us. We sat and spoke of our love for her and wondered if we knew how to do life without her. I still wonder that sometimes. How do you figure out life without the glue that holds it together?
Well, we've done it, of course. Kept going.....but it changed things. The glue has loosened and the parts don't fit the way they used to.
Life changes and we adapt.
Almost 13 years ago we sat in the hospital waiting for the moment for her to be released from her earthly pain. Ovarian cancer is a brutal bitch that, while spending years quietly taking over cell after cell, when finally making itself known, makes sure that you don't spend another waking moment without the knowledge it is there.
I am so thankful for having my family to go through that moment together. In that tiny hospital room, with my beautiful mom struggling for each ragged breath, and her thoughts being somewhere else (or was she still thinking....who knows the mysteries of death), there was 9 or 10 of us. We sat and spoke of our love for her and wondered if we knew how to do life without her. I still wonder that sometimes. How do you figure out life without the glue that holds it together?
Well, we've done it, of course. Kept going.....but it changed things. The glue has loosened and the parts don't fit the way they used to.
Life changes and we adapt.
ovarian cancer killed gilda radner. ovarian cancer should be set on fire, pounded with mallets, and hung from a tree!
ReplyDeleteExactly.
DeleteI think we adapt until we become the glue.
ReplyDeleteI love that Colette. Thank you
DeleteWe just lost a much-loved family member, our dear sister-in-law to ovarian cancer this past August. It is such a ravaging disease. I am so sorry you lost your mom this way. I have come to learn over the years with the loss of both of my parents that some love truly does last forever.
ReplyDeleteI am so very sorry Robin. My heart goes out to your family.
DeleteSending a hug across the continent today, Linda.
ReplyDeleteYou are very kind.
DeleteHugs today -- and I agree with Colette's perceptive remark.
ReplyDeleteMe too💜
DeleteOh I'm sorry. O.cancer is horrific! I'm happy to hear you were all there for her in passing. That must feel good to the loved one moving on don't you think? You may not think they are "there" but they are.
ReplyDeleteIt was an honor to be there for her next adventure
DeleteI'm playing catch up with your blog. I'm sorry about your mom. Mine died fourteen years ago. I still miss her. I'm thankful that she has a massive stroke and slipped into a coma. She suffered with a lot of arthritis pain but not cancer pain. It's awful watching someone you love suffer.
ReplyDeleteWell said. Life changes and we adapt. Mom had ovarian cancer too. It's a bitch and I admired her courage. How lucky to have been surrounded by so many who loved her at that time. We always remember those anniversaries, don't we? And I think that's a good thing, too.
ReplyDeleteWhat sad and difficult end to your mum's life. Almost thirty years ago, we watched my wonderful mother-in-law die of pancreatic cancer when she was 67 years old. She went from happy and playful to skin and bones in three months. And yet she died with a lot of grace. I miss her every day.
ReplyDelete