by Ska Thompson

Created on: December 04, 2007

I have a memory, or was it a dream? I can never tell. It is always hard to pin point the exact moment when your world begins to fall apart. Anyway, I want to tell you about my dream-memory, because, frankly, someone needs to know. I don't know how old I was, maybe four or five. In this dream-memory, I am walking through the woods with my family. My father, sister, brother, and yes, my mother, we are there as a family, for once. I remember being afraid. There was no happiness in me that day, only fear.

As I sat on a large rock near a rock wall that marked the end of our property and the beginning of another, I began to cry. My mother, noticing my distress, knelt down in front of me. I couldn't help but scream my fears at her. We're lost, I told her, we're lost and we'll never find our way home. I can still picture the look on her face, the face that was so young and beautiful. She looked me in the eyes and said the most powerful words I've yet to hear: "I will never let you get lost".
I look back on this dream-memory, and I find myself missing something. I want to run to her, scream my emotions at her. I want to tell her that now, I am older, but I am lost. I am lost in the woods and afraid that she'll never find me. When I finally get the courage to call out for her, I can't. I see this woman, once so young and beautiful, now sick and unable to move on her own. The chemo takes a toll on the body, I know. No matter how much I want to cry to her, to have her hold me as she once did, it is my turn. To see this woman, who was once my rock, lying blankets on the floor I want to die. "The couch hurts me," she'd say. I could do nothing but fetch her more padding and fix her a coffee. Why? The answer is simple, because I am now the rock. I am her pillar of strength. Where she was once the mother, the roles have reversed. I lived for the days when she could get out of bed in the morning, even if it were to just walk across the room. Each day was special. I cherished ever moment that she was breathing, each time I could make her smile. Though I am lost, I know I must set that aside for now. She needs me.
My mother has been gone for over a year now, and all I have left are the dream-memories that remind me of another life. I am a different person, no longer lost in the woods, and no longer afraid. I am able to look ahead with hope. That is what she gave me, the gift of a lifetime. I only hope that when I have children of my own, I will be able to do for them what was done for me. I know I'll make it through. All you need to get through everything that comes your way is just one little four letter word: HOPE.

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