The Gift of Time
Twenty-four hours in a day, seven days in a week, 8,760 hours in a
year. It has been a little more than two months since this battle for time, took on a life of its very own. Time is no respecter of persons. Simply
put, it is a precious gift. A gift we take for granted in the routine of
life, almost assuming we have an unlimited supply. For all our hopes and wishes
we cannot pause time, nor stop it…we can only cherish the moments given to us,
comprehending the gift we have been given.
November 18, her birthday, another milestone; 84 years young or 735,840
hours of living. Dinner at her favorite restaurant, surrounded by the love of
her family. What began in 1950, as a simple family of three, then shortly
thereafter four, has now grown into a family of eighteen. Small by some
comparisons, still it is ours…mine. The few who are aware of the truth, know
this will most likely be her last birthday celebration. The gift of knowledge,
also gives us the gift of time. A bittersweet gift...nonetheless it is a gift.
A routine checkup, days prior, confirms the reason for her fatigue
and malaise. The word we all fear, rears its ugly head. Still there are more
tests to be ran, scans to be done. We know the reality, yet cling to all shreds
of hope and faith. Thanksgiving is less than a week away, doctors will need to
wait. Her knowledge of what awaits her, can wait. If the worst is to be, the
least we can give her is this precious time.
Thanksgiving, another gift. A long overdue trip to Tennessee,
priceless moments spent with her beloved family…while she is still blissfully
unaware. Scans and doctor’s appointments follow. The scans confirm our worst
fears...still we choose to remain silent. Our silence, is synonymous with
her peace. The peace of not knowing this is her last Christmas. The peace of being unaware her time on this earth draws closer with each passing moment.
Days before Christmas, I enjoy a day with her doing routine
things we have done countless times before. Her genuine smile and excitement
upon my arrival, is my gift and it is precious. We go Christmas shopping,
grocery shopping, have dinner at her favorite diner, I wash dishes and help her with other
insignificant chores her feeble body no longer allows, we browse through a box
of old photographs she has excitedly dug out of the closet. It does not matter
what we do or where we are…all that matters, is treasuring this time. As we
grocery shop, I hold her arm supporting her; weary we have already done too
much for the day. We walk through the market, something we have done together hundreds of times before. Except on this occasion, she is not holding my hand or taking care
of me, I am taking care of her. Though it saddens me, I am honored to perform this one
small task for her. She knows she is not well, though she still does not know to what
extent. As I help her into my car, she remarks, “It is not fair. I never drank,
I never smoked, I did everything the doctors told me to.” I quietly respond as
I buckle her seat-belt, “I know Mommom, it isn’t fair.” As I prepare to leave,
it is obvious our day together has depleted her energy. My heart aches, I want
to hug her and make her feel better, as she has done for me so often throughout
my life. Though it is late, and she is concerned about my drive home, I sit for
just a few minutes longer…not wanting our day to end.
Christmas day I snuggle next to her on my sofa, grateful for the holiday…grateful for more time. Trying to take in each moment, hoping time will not
fade these treasured memories. She places her frail hand on mine and I am
still…content by the gift of family…wishing I could make this day last forever.
New Year’s Eve, I call her before the strike of midnight. I am disappointed she has chosen to be home alone, instead of surrounded by her family. For all her
feebleness, she is still the most strong-willed woman I have ever known. Though I have no doubt it is why she has lived a full life. Our
conversation is similar to the many New Year’s Eve calls we have made over the
years. I hang up the phone acutely aware this is the last New Year’s call I
will make to her. The idea that in a few days she will know what we know, weighs heavy on my mind as I drift off to sleep. It felt wrong to celebrate the ushering in of a new year, a new year which will bring great loss.
The holidays are now over. She meets with her oncologist, he is a
kind and gentle man. Though his demeanor is insignificant, he could be the
kindest man in the world and I would not care. Our hope and faith, have been
replaced with inoperable and incurable. This man has taken away our gift of
time…replacing it with the knowledge of how little time we have. I know he is
only the messenger, still, it is a message none of us are prepared or desire to hear.
As I sit next to her talking about everything and nothing, she
reiterates the same sentiments from several weeks ago and a new revelation, “I
never drank, I never smoked, I stayed away from all the foods they told me to.
I felt good on my birthday, before I knew." She pauses and sighs, "I
wish I did not know.” Her words pierce my heart, reminding me of the
phrase I have heard many times before, BC – Before Cancer. I look down at my
watch, realizing I have stayed much later than planned...still just a few more
minutes. I prepare to leave, after we have already said our goodbyes, she makes
a point of getting up and walking across the room to hug me tightly…one more
time. Today she learned what we all knew. There is nothing left to do, except
pray she can find the same peace she had when she woke up yesterday…before the
knowledge that cancer is determined to steal her time. I walk into my house and
Chris stops what he is doing, as I collapse into his embrace…no words are
necessary.
More scans, labs and doctor’s appointments come and go. Each
doctor's appointment strips away at the smallest shreds of hope lingering in
our hearts. She is indecisive, as she is faced with the most difficult
decision...quality vs quantity. Regardless of her decision, her doctors can
offer no guarantees. Still a decision must be made, an answer must be
given...to a question none of us can answer. Maybe no decision, is the
decision. The one decision she has made is: she does not want to know the limits cancer has placed on her remaining time in this world.
The routine of daily life exhausts her. Her nutrition and rest are
vital to her continued existence. Her daughters alternate with her care, tending to her every need, keeping
her on a scheduled feeding and nap time. She has become the child, they have
become the parent. She discusses the desire to have her hair professionally
done, not an unusual request; yet, uncharacteristic for her. The origin of her
simple request brings tears to my eyes, as I fully grasp her reasoning. She is
shy and self-conscious, the thought of any one she does not know taking care of
her hair is unsettling. I set up a consultation with the most loving and
qualified woman I know for the task. After some gentle persuasion from my mom and I,
she eventually acquiesces. Her hair consultation goes well; the appointment is
set for January 25. With the limit of time, the trivial moments of mundane of
life have become momentous.
In our family we hug, we kiss, and we say I love you. For the past few months every hug, every kiss on the cheek or the forehead, every I love you
has been overshadowed with the knowledge I do not know how many more times I
will have this opportunity with her. With no intentions, reality is cruel...denial is a futile use of time...while acceptance leaves an inconsolable pang,
which brings an unending wave of emotions.
I know how blessed I am to have this gracious, loving, kind woman
who has been a part of my life from my first breathe and all the breathes in
between. I know how fortunate I am to have someone who makes saying good-bye so
difficult. She has been my protector and defender, my confidant, my friend, my
family, a piece of my heart and so much more…she is my Mommom…the perfect
combination of mother and grandmother.
No amount of time with her will ever be long enough.
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