002. misunderstood

07/22/2011

all I can give you is love

Toni,

In 55 years of life, I'm sure you never would have anticipated that a person like me could possibly come from you. I believe I am an amazing woman with an amazing personality. I have you to thank for that. I don't say that with an ego. I can look into the eyes of an older resident at the nursing home I am employed at with genuine empathy and the fact that they can see it is saying I'm doing a good job.

I have compassion for others. I will not let anyone walk all over me. I'm sure you'd be proud of me for that one, because you know well when I was younger that I was a crazy, emotional wreck. I'm a work-in-progress, and I want that to remain, because that means I can grow and expand even more.

Your love and concern was misunderstood. As a teenager, I thought you hated all my choices. I thought you hated my fiance when we had just started dating. If my daughter came to me crying that she had been hurt by a man, even minor, my anger would be directed to the source.

I have always had the utmost respect and admiration for you. It was misunderstood. Tom always got it more because when you were ill, it was him and I who cared for you. Tom always took me to school, took care of me...he did what was necessary. I played "nurse" for a long time, and now look where I ended up...I'm a CNA at a nursing home. Who would have thought, huh?

You are by far the bravest woman I have ever known. 17 years. 17 1/2 long, torturous years. I remember you told me in '93 when you had your near-death experience and you saw an angel that said you had to take care of me. I remember in '98 when the port from your chemotherapy was being pulled into your heart v.i.a. a clot in your superior vena cava. I remember in '01 when you received radiation therapy for a tumor in your bone of your leg that was molecularly identical to the ones in your brain. I remember wondering how you still survived that.

Little did I know it would get worse.

I remember in '05 when I heard the same types of tumors were dotted up and down your spine. I remember in '07 when you had more brain tumors and you went in for gamma knife radiation. I remember seeing the Polaroid photo of you with your head cradle on and how miserable you looked. I remember what I told you afterwards. Amazing how technology has progresses. Brain surgery, an outpatient procedure? 10 years prior it had become a brand new procedure, and 10 years later, you could go home the same day?

I remember 7-8 members of the family coming up for each gamma knife treatment (after I turned 18 and could go), stepping into the office at 5:30 AM, and being the only one able to stay awake to get the phone call from the doctor that it was okay to visit. I remember how betrayed I felt when everyone else fell asleep around me while I, the lonely one, waited for you to get out of brain surgery.

I remember in '08 when I went to the specialist with you, learned that you had breast cancer, once again, molecularly identical to the ones in your brain, and learning there were only a couple options.

I remember when you rejected them all.

I remember taking care of you, doing things I never thought I would do at my age. I remember having to heal a pressure ulcer. I remember having to bathe you, make sure you ate, and self-cathing you when you lost the ability to move your urine. I remember doing it before work and then again when I came home. Every day, the same thing. I remember when you went into the nursing home. I remember seeing you there, after you lost 120 pounds from being so ill, and wondering if you were the same person underneath. I remember...

I remember the one hour I went home to get a shower and a bite after to eat, after being by your side for 2 days straight, you died.

I misunderstood. From the evening before, when I questioned God in screaming form why he was making you suffer so much, I heard your last words. "Don't cry, Sarah. It's going to be okay. I love you."

In 55 years of life, you loved, lived, and breathed life to the fullest. And in 26 of mine, as your daughter, I hope to even be a fraction of the angel that you are to me. You will always mean the world to me.

And I hope that I am understood. I love you, Mom.