So it happened, and although I knew it was coming, I wasn't really ready. Ever since, all those weeks ago she ask my brother and me, while we where sitting in the hospital after her chemotherapy (for her lung cancer) to make sure that our other siblings where looked after, we knew. But you want to hope for an act of god (difficult since I don't believe in god). We knew the minute the doctor said that the cancer had spread to her brain to a degree that it was amazing that she was still able to breath, let alone talk and walk about. Somehow, she refused to let it rule her. It wasn't until last week that she finally started to show cracks - loss of memory, and the loss of her 'twinkle' in her eyes. Even so, last Sunday, she asked me to dance (we were listening to "I Robot" - Alan Parsons Project) and she told me that my singing was terrible and my dancing worse - deliberately making fun of herself. The last two days of her life must have been terrible - she had shots of morphine on an hourly basis, along with whatever other drugs she would 'normally' be having. I suppose, some sense of relief that she is no longer suffering, no longer fighting simply to maintain her memories.
Bye Mum. Love you.
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