Days Like TodayPosted: July 1, 2013
Today, my Mom took me to buy a new outfit to wear on my first day of work at my new job next week.
Small things like this, are things that she has always done for all of us. New job, promotion, transfer, some sweet gift, surprise, or other kind of gesture.
She offered to buy me a new suit to wear to interviews when I lost my job. My first interview happened before we had a chance to go shopping. I told her I would take a rain check, and get something new later.
Today was the day.
Gone are the power shopping trips. Epic laps around the mall finding just the right thing.
Today, we parked in the closest handicap spot.
We got a stroller/cart at Kohl’s so she could have something to hold onto to keep her steady. It reminded me of my Nana, who had to get a cart if we were running into the store for a carton of milk.
I try not to think of her being sick. I don’t want her to be.
It is what it is, and some days it just hits you.
On days like today, my smallest daughter spending the afternoon and evening with her Nana and Papa, it hit me as I hung my new pants in the closet that there may not be all that many more days like today.
Even as she fights through this disease, it has a strong hold on our family. As much as she doesn’t want it to control her, and her life, it feels like it is slowly taking over.
Last night Mack and her boyfriend came over for dinner, and somehow we got on to the subject of our neighbor who passed away last year. Mea asks, “What made Judy die?”
I know that it wasn’t the right thing to do, but at that moment, I had to leave the room. Every part of me wanted to scream and cry.
Judy died of lung cancer too.
I could overhear Mack just say simply, “Judy was sick.”
Mea accepted that answer, and went on showing off for her sister.
Sometime soon, she is not going to accept that as an answer.
I don’t expect her to, and I know that here soon, I most likely need to actually talk to her about her Nana. I am still at a loss for words when it comes to this. Sometimes I cannot even process my own emotions, much less those of a seven-year-old.
So where days like today are a reminder of what has always been, it was also a reminder of what is to come. Tonight, I cry a little. Mourn what was, and how things should be, and am grateful for the moments that we still have together.