Break me

J

Ocotber 20, 2013

Dear Mom,

 Some things last forever, and some don't.

Here are some things that do not: you.

That actually just sounded really mean of me, and I'm sorry. However, it is extrememly true; you didn't live forever, but you aren't the only one who left me.

People aren't permanent. I see people at school who used to be pretty good aquaintences of mine, and now they don't even acknowledge me in the halls. They're all still there, alive and breathing, but they left me too.

I hate thinking that everything I have now will someday be gone. The bar of soap in the shower will eventually dissolve; the food in the fridge will disappear. They say in science that matter can neither be created nor destroyed, so why is everything destructible?

Believe it or not, I wanted to prove to you that somethings do last forever, but as I'm sitting here, I don't see anything that will.

My cat tore a hole in my sister's jacket the other day, and she got really mad at my kitty. Girl should know, that jacket is luckier than her. That jacket has a lot better chance of lasting longer than she will.

My house, my clothes, my food, anything I possibly could have, all of those things are just like you. There is no way that they can last forever.

I was asking dad to tell me about when he was little. I think I asked something about like how many children did he plan to have when he was little.

DO YOU KNOW WHAT HE TOLD ME? Do you? He said he didn't.

I don't understand that guy sometimes. Who doesn't think about who and what they'll be when they're older? Who in the world doesn't?

My father said he never bothered thinking about kids because he didn't even think anyone would want to marry him. He didn't think anyone could ever like him. He had given up.

"Dad, why did you bother dating mom if you thought she was going to hate you from the start?"

 He told me that he wanted to give you a chance because he liked you; he thought you were worth the risk. Dad really did know how to pick his woman.

You knew how to bring out everything in him. You knew exactly how to make his forehead go red. You could make him smile or yell his lungs out.

Mom, you did that to me too. You were the most blunt person I knew. I will never forget that time when I was eating a cookie and you called me fat. You told to stop eating cookies; I cried. There must be something about you because I seriously haven't eaten a maple oatmeal glazed cookie ever since.

I'd smiled everyday in the summer. You used to drive me and my siblings to the pool daily because it was so hot outside. I can't really quite stand swimming anymore. It just brings too much out of me. You took too much out of me.

I'm always going to consider you as the best mom in the world no matter what you did.

I'm never going to forget that last summer that you were alive. It had already been four years since you ahd been diagnosed with lung cancer, and that last summer, you got really really sick.

It was a terrible one day. Your body felt like it was deteriorating. I called dad and begged him to take you to the hospital; you wanted to go too. I felt so helpless, seeing you crying and not being able to make you feel better. I was twelve. I didn't know why you were in pain. I didn't know anything. I knew you had lung cancer. I knew you coughed a lot; I didn't know what was wrong. I couldn't have been more happy when daddy came to take you to the hospital; I was sure they could fix you.

By the time you and dad came home, it was late. I was laying downstairs in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking that I would never sleep downstairs again because there was radon in that dumb basement and you said that radon gave you your cancer; I was hoping to see an angel.

When I wandered upstairs, you were on the phone talking to someone on your support team. One of my sisters told me. Mommy's cancer had spread. MOMMY'S CANCER HAD SPREAD.

I felt like I had been struck on the face. I can't imagine how you felt. I was 12 years old.

The look on your face said way more than how I felt. How in the world was this supposed to get fixed? This wasn't part of the plan. HOW WERE YOU SUPPOSED TO BE GETTING BETTER IF YOU WERE ACTUALLY GETTING WORSE???

You told me it was all okay. You told me not to worry. You said you weren't dead yet. YOU WEREN'T DEAD YET. I believed and trusted in you.

Your cancer had spread to your liver and your bones. I still get goosebumps thinking about it.

This was in August 2008. The worst year of my life.

It wasn't easy for you. If I felt terrible, I can't imagine how you felt. You had everything so hard, and you were so brave through the whole thing.

I can't say how amazing you were, how brave you were. You'd have to be the strongest person I know.

I love you. I love you. I love you. I'm going to repeat it to death. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

I was brushing my teeth this morning, and I realized that my toothpaste tastes exactly like those weird bubbly fresh things you used to have me take to make my teeth strong. Tastes exactly like them.

Some things never change. I had completely forgotten what those bubbly fresh tasted like until then. No matter if I forgot. I remembered. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.That will last forever.

Love, Grayson