numbered. A fluke in cancer’s plan to overtake her body.
We really have no idea how much longer we have with my mom, all we know is that her team of doctors and her have decided they’ve come to the end of the road as far as treatments go. And with what little medical knowledge that I have, I do know that hospice is called in to help the patient stay comfortable and maintain the pain until the end.
I’m still struggling to accept her impending death. I want my mom; I need her around. How am I supposed to get through life without her there?
It’s crazy, in the four days I’ve been here, she’s been her normal self with the exception of her pain. Each day is a game of Russian Roulette with how she’ll handle it. Luckily, the hospice nurse is great about keeping her medication on schedule.
Hearing her laughter when I open the front door this afternoon, a sense of relief washes over me. I know without seeing or speaking to her that today is a good day. My mom has a distinctive laugh that is genuine and a polite laugh that she uses when she’s trying to please others. The laugh I hear as I head into the living room is her genuine, real laugh. And as cheesy as it sounds, I relish in the sound of it.
I know I won’t have too many more opportunities to hear that laugh.
I assumed it was Kandice who was sitting and chatting with her. She’s quickly carved out a soft spot in my mom’s heart. However, when the sound of a deeper voice echoes off the walls, I know my assumption was incorrect.
I never expected to turn the corner and see J.C. sitting on the couch in the same living room I grew up in.
What in God’s name is he doing here?
Our eyes immediately find each other’s, and both fill instantly with desire laced with something else. Is that hope I see in his? Mine, on the other hand, have guilt entwined with the desire.
Coming face to face with him, here in my mom’s house, can only mean one thing. It’s time to face the music. J.C. and I have to talk.
But I’m not ready for it. I’m terrified to hear what he’ll say to me after all of these months. The fact that he has refused to speak to me up to this point can only lead me to believe that he won’t have anything nice to say. And even though I know our relationship, as well as our friendship, is over, I don’t want to hear him say the words.
They will be what causes that final string to snap on my sanity.
“What are you doing here?” I finally find my voice, still unable to pull my eyes away from the man who’s haunted my dreams lately.
“Joey! Be nice, young lady! J.C. came all the way here to visit,” my mom says, breaking the trance.
“Sorry, mama.”
Of course my mom defends J.C.; I think she’s always harbored a sweet little crush on him. But ever since I told her months ago about our tainted past, she’s been the leader of the J.C. fan club. While I love that she loves him, I know it's all a moot point now because we aren't and won't ever be together.
Kandice chooses this awkward moment to step into the small, crowded room and although she questions how my mother is doing, her focus stays on J.C. This makes me question the friendly nature she and I have developed over the last few days.
Unfortunately for her, J.C. doesn’t seem to notice her constant looks of desire. His eyes are focused on me instead, as if I’m the only person in this room.
And that scares the shit out of me, because I know if anyone can see through the facade I’ve spent the past six months building up, it’s J.C. And the way he’s looking at me, I already know he’s doing just that; looking through the wall I've constructed inside to see the real me. The one who’s still suffering. The one who’s terrified of losing her mother. The one who’s heartbroken.
“Kandice, dear, I think I’d like to go lay down for a bit.”
Of course my mom is going to make her exit, leaving me alone with J.C. My first instinct is to run away, but that isn’t me. I
We really have no idea how much longer we have with my mom, all we know is that her team of doctors and her have decided they’ve come to the end of the road as far as treatments go. And with what little medical knowledge that I have, I do know that hospice is called in to help the patient stay comfortable and maintain the pain until the end.
I’m still struggling to accept her impending death. I want my mom; I need her around. How am I supposed to get through life without her there?
It’s crazy, in the four days I’ve been here, she’s been her normal self with the exception of her pain. Each day is a game of Russian Roulette with how she’ll handle it. Luckily, the hospice nurse is great about keeping her medication on schedule.
Hearing her laughter when I open the front door this afternoon, a sense of relief washes over me. I know without seeing or speaking to her that today is a good day. My mom has a distinctive laugh that is genuine and a polite laugh that she uses when she’s trying to please others. The laugh I hear as I head into the living room is her genuine, real laugh. And as cheesy as it sounds, I relish in the sound of it.
I know I won’t have too many more opportunities to hear that laugh.
I assumed it was Kandice who was sitting and chatting with her. She’s quickly carved out a soft spot in my mom’s heart. However, when the sound of a deeper voice echoes off the walls, I know my assumption was incorrect.
I never expected to turn the corner and see J.C. sitting on the couch in the same living room I grew up in.
What in God’s name is he doing here?
Our eyes immediately find each other’s, and both fill instantly with desire laced with something else. Is that hope I see in his? Mine, on the other hand, have guilt entwined with the desire.
Coming face to face with him, here in my mom’s house, can only mean one thing. It’s time to face the music. J.C. and I have to talk.
But I’m not ready for it. I’m terrified to hear what he’ll say to me after all of these months. The fact that he has refused to speak to me up to this point can only lead me to believe that he won’t have anything nice to say. And even though I know our relationship, as well as our friendship, is over, I don’t want to hear him say the words.
They will be what causes that final string to snap on my sanity.
“What are you doing here?” I finally find my voice, still unable to pull my eyes away from the man who’s haunted my dreams lately.
“Joey! Be nice, young lady! J.C. came all the way here to visit,” my mom says, breaking the trance.
“Sorry, mama.”
Of course my mom defends J.C.; I think she’s always harbored a sweet little crush on him. But ever since I told her months ago about our tainted past, she’s been the leader of the J.C. fan club. While I love that she loves him, I know it's all a moot point now because we aren't and won't ever be together.
Kandice chooses this awkward moment to step into the small, crowded room and although she questions how my mother is doing, her focus stays on J.C. This makes me question the friendly nature she and I have developed over the last few days.
Unfortunately for her, J.C. doesn’t seem to notice her constant looks of desire. His eyes are focused on me instead, as if I’m the only person in this room.
And that scares the shit out of me, because I know if anyone can see through the facade I’ve spent the past six months building up, it’s J.C. And the way he’s looking at me, I already know he’s doing just that; looking through the wall I've constructed inside to see the real me. The one who’s still suffering. The one who’s terrified of losing her mother. The one who’s heartbroken.
“Kandice, dear, I think I’d like to go lay down for a bit.”
Of course my mom is going to make her exit, leaving me alone with J.C. My first instinct is to run away, but that isn’t me. I
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