How To Live Without Her

Counting down

As the days turned into months, I found it harder and harder to keep a smile on my face. I went through my everyday routine as if it was programmed in me. I woke up, took a shower, got dressed, went to school, came home. It came to the point that the thought of losing my mom prevented me from getting good grades. I would just stare at my teacher, nothing soaking in. I started to let my grades fall. Mom continuously tried to cheer me up and motivate me, but everytime she said anything remotely to her leaving, I burst into tears. As month 3 rolled around, I started to get better. I wanted to be strong for my mom. If she saw me bent out of shape, she would be too. I didn't want her last days to be sad. 

She had a doctors appointment a month before the doctor said she would pass. We went in and they did some check-ups. I was expecting the worst. They came out and the nurse said the doctor would be out in a minute. We waited. All was quiet between my dad, mom and I. The door creaked open. The doctor had a faded smile on his face as he held a folder. "Good or bad news first?" My mom replied, "Bad. If we can get through that, we'll have something good to hear as well." The doctor paused and opened his mouth, "The bad news is: the cancer is not decreasing in size from the Kimo. The good news: It's not spreading or getting any worse." I looked at my mom. She had a slight smile on. The doctor continued, "It looks like you might have a couple more months to look foward to. Maybe 3 more." I just smiled to myself. Maybe she'll get better. 

We got home and sat in the livingroom. My mom spoke up, "Well guys, look at the bright side. I have a couple more months." I just looked at my feet, trying to stay positive. Buddy came running up to me. He hopped in my lap and curled up. I started to pet down his back. I looked up and my dad opened his mouth to say something, but quickly closed it. He started again, "Do you want me to help you with anything hun?" Looking towards mom. She just replied, "If you could help me get in my recliner, that'd be great." He got up and helped her in her chair. I just thought to myself, Deborah, be happy for her. Put a smile on your face. You can always cry later. I looked over at my mom and asked her if I could walk outside and she said 
"go for it."

I give my mom credit. She lasted a whole another year. Increasingly getting worse, but still. She survived.