Thank you Mrs. McCarthy
Went to yet another hospital ER room this past weekend – and it wasn’t even for Alison. One of my other two atomic bombs went off again.
This was on top of another indescribable weekend. There’s not much to do but bear it.
I’d like to say that this was Alison’s second Mother’s Day as a mother but it really wasn’t. She barely registered anything.
Bought her this card months ago, hoping to give it to her. Never got a chance to. Doesn’t make it any less true though.
Alison is nothing if not extra-ordinary. Sometimes, though, I wish she was just ordinary. Perhaps then, she’d be able to stay with me.
I’d give anything if she could just stay.
Speaking of extra-ordinary – I haven’t really mentioned it because I try to keep as much of the lives of those around me as private as possible – I’d be remiss if I didn’t tell you that, during the past 18 months, Alison’s mother has been here with me almost every single day and night to take care of her and the kid.
She came here with four days worth of clothes right when Alison gave birth so that she could help out for the first few days. And then everything went to hell.
And she just stayed. There is no way that I could have possibly taken care of Alison and Nate without her. And she has been far stronger than I, which humbles me.
Whereas my pain is deep, I cannot imagine the pain of a mother watching his/her child go through what Alison has gone through. Wouldn’t want to. But she has, somehow. Stoically.
Alison’s parents are a major reason I married her.
Cause, when you marry someone, you don’t just marry them, you marry their family. And these are people I’m truly honored to call family.
Despite my losing so much money and being as old and broken as I am, they have never been anything but wonderful to me.
While this may reflect badly on their own parenting skills, I’ll take what I can get.
When Alison and I got married, I promised them that she would be safe. Part of why I’m so heartbroken is because I feel I’ve failed them. Yet they never say anything negative about anything I’ve done, even though I constantly doubt every decision I’ve made.
Alison’s mother asked if I would keep them in Nate’s life in the future, a question I found very strange.
Me: Are you serious? You’re the only family he’s known for the past 18 months.
Her mother: Things change over time.
Me: (shaking head) I want Nate to know his mother. By knowing you two, he’ll know her. That’s what she’d want. That’s what I want.
Location: at the foot of her bed
Mood: so very broken
Music: I’m fragile. I try not to be
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One reply on “Mother’s Day 2017”
Logan, I first came across your story once it popped up on my Facebook wall after a mutual friend left a comment.
Your story is especially poignant to me because I lost my mother to a GBM when I was very young. I still have many awful memories of witnessing the progression of this horrible disease. That was over 30 years ago. It’s sad to see that so little has been achieved to alter the course of this cancer.
I’m sure no words can bring you any consolation. You are doing an admirable job of trying to cope under exceptionally difficult circumstances.
I hope you can continue to stay strong. Your love and dedication to Alison always shine through in your writing.