I have a memory that I wish I didn’t.
It is the memory of my dead mother and how she looked. I had nursed my father until he died but I had help as he was in hospital. But my mother was a different story. She didn’t want to die in hospital, she wanted to be home surrounded by the ones that love her. It was hard to do as I had a 4 year old daughter at the time and my son was 6 months old. But some how I managed to pull it off. I mean I did have help from my hubby who basically took time of work so that he could concentrate on the kids while I spent ever minute of the day and night nursing my mother, because that was her wish and her desire. I was the nurse maid, she wouldn’t let strangers help she even fought on having the District nurses come out and check her lines. I feed her, bathed, gave her meds and cleaned her up when needed. I basically moved into her house and set up a bed so that I was there any time of the day every day. I was the nurse maid. And if I had my time again I would change it because when did I get to be the daughter who had to say goodbye. Why wasn’t I the one who held you hand till the very end.
Why because you wouldn’t allow it to happen. Finally you took your last breath with your brother and sister holding you and touching you and me in the background letting you go. You took you breath in and slowly let it out never to take one more. I rang the doctor and rang who needed to be rung and then I went to clean you up to get you ready. You had gone. My last memory of you was a cold body who had withered away you were no longer my mother. In fact for the last week or so, it was as if I was back at work and I was nursing one of my own patients.
So instead of the lovely warm memories of the strong and powerful women you were. I have the memory of a cold listless body that once was. Do I wish that it was the other, bet you life.
Now my point. I am no Elle, Megan Gail, or even Miss Universe, I am just me. But the me that I am is not the me that I was. You have said many times that you would be here in a heart beat if I just say the word. But that all changed once I heard those three words. “You have Cancer”.
If I am ever to see you then I want to be the best person I am, and that is the one that I am happy with, not the one that I am ashamed of. And yes I know you have said that it wouldn’t matter to you. But it matters to me.
If this visit was ever to come about and it was the first and last visit, I want it to be that I am the flower in full bloom and not the withering flower ready to go on the compost heap. So don’t ask, if it is meant to be then you and I will have to wait.
And one more thing don’t even think of a surprise visit, because that will make me mad and angry, and I may not even open the door to you.
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