i send my SOS to the world- this is my message in a bottle. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Impending Fears I am so numb that I don't really know what to say, exactly. I want to force myself to write because I need to. Because my head hurts, because I don't think I can cry anymore, but I know that the well of potential sorrow is so much deeper than it looks from here. I thought that it was it tonight- that I was going to lose her, that I was never going to feel the warmth of the skin of the woman who has raised me like her own child, instead of a grandchild. And I felt like a piece of me was being ripped away, that I know once it is really gone, I will never be able to get back. She was unresponsive and I saw her body shake in her sleep, this weird limbo where the woman that I knew- vibrant, laughing, even in her sickness, wasn't there. And I would have killed to have her look at me one more time, to smile at me, to acknowledge I was even there. And she wasn't. I cursed myself for not being there on Sunday, knowing that even if her body was here now, her mind was so weak from yesterday. Each breath was a hard won battle, and I held her hand, crying useless tears into the folds of her yellow and orange duster. And I told her I loved her, and I told her stories of my youth with her, the stories she constantly repeats to me when she is well. Everything I could remember: walking to Potomac, dancing at the KP, Meadowbrook preschool days. I wanted to be the one to bear her pain, if even for a minute, because it's obvious pain; hands shaking, everything. Her vision is failing her. It wasn't until Emily came that all of a sudden she became responsive, opening her eyes to say, 'Emily, you've lost weight!" Take it from my grandma to break a day long comatose state with a complement. She all of a sudden perked up, talking to Emily, even flirting with Russell. It was as if a light had turned on in her. And all of a sudden, a complete 180. We were able to get up her up off the couch, to the restroom, to the dinner table to eat. She thanked me for taking care of her, and I told her, "you did it for us when we were little. Now it's your turn.' But she was up, and walking (albeit, slowly). She sat up, she was eating, and at least for tonight, I still have her. We sat at the table looking at pictures of my friend Enil's wedding, as she exclaimed over the handsomeness of her husband, the beauty of the bride and the loveliness of the color (her favorite, red). She told me I was beautiful and that my time will come. These thoughts, this night, kills me inside because I'm scared because I know the truth of all of it. She is in pain, and taking lots of medication. And I am terrified of the future because this could be the worse thing I have ever felt. And it probably will be. 1:03 a.m. - Tuesday, Jun. 20, 2006 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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