by Terri Bebla

Created on: January 20, 2009

The day was September 24, 2008, a Wednesday to be exact. This day was just like any other day that had risen with the sun and fallen with the moon. My mother was still being consumed by this Cancer they call Lymphoma. I have regretfully been introduced to the fact that there is nothing on the face of this earth or any other planet that can prepare you for such devastating and mind altering news.

I remember the day my sister Toni called to tell me the news about our Mother. I remember instantly feeling numb, as a huge lump formed in my esophagus. I felt like a character in a horror film, you know the scene where there is a long hallway, and no matter how hard or fast you run, you just can never seem to find the other side of the door. Accept in my case, I just could
not seem to find the other side of reason. All I could grasp was uncertainty.

How could this be happening to a woman who has already suffered so much? I began to grow sick inside as my mind ran frantic, everything that I had studied, all my research on Cancer, nutrition etc. Just faded into the shadows, everything changes when it is someone you love. My chest grew tight and I could feel those old anxiety symptoms rushing back. I made the mistake of trying to organize the Shoulda, Coulda, Woulda's that crashed around in my mind.

Why was I so stubborn? I had not spoken to my Mother in almost one month. I had told myself that I would let her call me, because every time I would call her, she just never really seemed to want to talk. Little did I know, she was not well, which explains everything. I would sit in my home and ask myself "I wonder why she hasn't called me?" My Frank would tell me to call her
but I would say, "No, she will call me when she wants to talk."

After I received the news I made it a point to call her everyday, once in the morning and once in the evening. I wanted her to know that I loved her very much. So that was one of the first things that I told her. I loved her everyday of her life, and I will continue to love her everyday of mine.

The last time I was able to see my mother; she was in a hospice, just awaiting the moment when her suffering would end. I slowly walked down a white linoleum hallway and entered the door on the left. She was asleep, so I watched her for a while, not wanting to wake her. Each breath seemed so mechanical, so unnatural; the woman I remembered was not in this room. I couldn't help but start to cry, as I watched her. This was the woman who raised me; this was

• 1
• 2
• 3
• Next Page >>