Unsuspecting Dreamer

Chapter 3 Loss and Love

I stamp my boots off as I enter the assisted living home. The snow storm has been over since yesterday but it still grips our small town in its strong, icy grip. I'm just so happy that it's Friday. I have to work tonight but then I have 2 full free days. These day, every second of free time is precious. I nod and smile at the nurses, making my way down the hallway I've come to know as well as the back of my hand. Stopping in front of room 212, I knock lightly before entering.

"Mom," I call out. She sits, daydreaming out the window. Even as sick as she is, and without her hair, she is still the image of strength and beauty. "How's it going today?"

Her head turns, brightening up as she comes back to the world where we both exist. "Lizzie." She holds out her arms, which I dart straight into. After greetings are exchanged we fall into conversation like we never stopped. I amuse her with my story of meeting Hunter, although I leave out the part of me getting hit on and fondled by a drunk, downgrading it to slipping on my own mess. But I am still able to make the story sound exciting and emotional.

The hours tick by quickly and all to soon I have to leave, but I stay until I will have to race to work in a dangerous manner. My only wish right now would be for time to freeze and life to stand still.

"I had a letter from your father," my mom mentions, as if it's nothing, but I can see the pain and hurt clearly etched on her face.

My mom was diagnosed with breast cancer when I was 10. She had a 3 year battle, and was cancer-free for almost 8 years. Now it's back and we've stretched treatment out to the end. I am just now realizing that I am going to lose my mother at age 21. My dad stuck with her the first time, but the second time proved too great a trial for him to bear.

"Where is he?" I try to keep all emotion from my face and out of my voice. I hate him for what he did, but mom still loves him. I know if he would have been here she would have had a better chance of surviving the cancer. Almost like she's dying of a broken heart, cancer is just speeding the process along.

"He doesn't say. There is no return address," she sighs. "He wishes us well."

"Okay." I nod, my eyes now glued to the floor. My hand clutches her's and I try to keep my hand slack.

"I hate the thought of him out there, all alone."

"Alone! What about us?!" I can't help it, my temper rises, I stand and begin to pace. "He left us. He chose to be alone." Immediately I regret my words as I hear a sob break free from my mother's mouth. "Oh, mom." I collect her into my arms and for a minute we just cling to each other, her crying and me stewing in regret and neglect. I finally break the embrace.

"I have to go." I look into her eyes, "Are you going to be okay?" She smiles at me and squeezes my hands.

"Don't worry about me dear. Hurry along now."

I dash to the door, suddenly aware of how close I am cutting it. I call over my shoulder, "I'll be back tomorrow. Don't forget we have a meeting with your doctor. Love you"

I don't turn on any music as I drive like mad to the Diner. I use the time to reflect and think. This is going to be a long shift. That I am certain of.
Saturday still decides to come quickly. Before I am fully awake I am sitting in a stuffy doctors office, pen and paper in my hand, sitting next to my mother. Words fly by, facts, figures- too much to understand now. Mom and I will go over our notes after we leave the doctor's. This method keeps us in the know and feeling prepared. It gives us a small piece of mind, something we can be grateful for. Something we can do together.

My mind is elsewhere, I almost don't realize when my mom stops the chatter. I come back to focus, listening and hearing instead of just hearing.

"So, the treatments are not working?" She asks.

"Not enough to make much of a difference, the numbers don't look good," the doctor confirms.

"So how much time do I have?" Mom is famous for her brazen questions and statements. I hate this question, I brace myself for the reply.

"Two to four months without any treatment. Six months with, but there is no guarantee, and your quality of life will continue to diminish as it has been."

The frank reply hits me like a car hitting a stone wall, and I was speeding, going 100 miles per hour. I feel as if my stomach has been frozen and dropped on the ground. A slight moan works itself free from my lips.

My mom nods, "Then I choose to stop treatment." Her voice calm, collected.

"Mom...." I start to interrupt.

"No Lizzie, I've been feeling bad enough as it is, I can't imagine feeling any worse. I want to spend the rest of my time with you. I want our last moments to be happy ones. I don't want to watch you suffer as I continue to shut down. I am tired and I give up."

I can't see; tears run freely down my face. I completely understand, but I was... am still grasping to the impossible hope that mom was going to beat this. I sit there bawling, she grabs my hand and squeezes hard.

"Oh baby, honey, shh," she coos. My heart feels like it's melting into a puddle onto the floor.

"I'll just give you two a minute," the doctor says, walking around his desk and out into the hall.

"You understand, don't you?" my mom begs. I can't see her clearly but I know she is not crying. She is strong when I am weak.

"I... I... I don't want to lose you," I sob, burring my head into her shoulder. "You're all that I have, I love you," I mumble into her arm. She just holds me until I cry out. I finally sit back.

"Okay?" she asks.

I'm not but I nod anyway, not trusting my voice. Showing her that I can be strong too.

After the doctor returns we talk some more. Then I walk mom down to the meal hall for lunch, although I already know I have no appetite. We spend the rest of the day together, it ends with me falling asleep on the couch in her room. I am emotionally exhausted and, before I fall asleep, I make a deal with myself. I decide to face the days one at a time. It's the only way I will be able to get through this.

Two months, and eleven days pass. Mom and I know we're on a short time frame. Each day together is something special. Sometimes mom jokes about February being a horrid month to die in. She does it to cheer me up but all it ever succeeds in song is making me choke back tears.

Then the day comes when mom can't get out of bed. I ask off from work and all we do is sit together. Sometimes we talk of fond memories, or discuss books, or weather, or news. Sometimes we just listen to music, each beloved song reminds us we might not listen to it together again. Every day I read for her like she did for me when I was little. But we avoid talking about the future. I can't bear to think of a world where we are not together.

When she sleeps I am writing constantly. Sleep is the most unreachable thing in my life. Late at night, when I listen to my mom's soft breathing, I often find myself reflecting on that night I met Hunter at the Diner. I wonder what he is off accomplishing while my world is standing still.

One night before my mom drifts off to sleep she decides that the future needs to be the topic we cover. It is the hardest thing I have ever had to talk about, but I do it for her. I will show her I am strong.

Wedding, children, jobs, my bright career as a famous writer, opportunities that I need to grab. We cover it all. My father isn't even mentioned.

That night, March 16th, 2014, my mom looks right at me as I tuck her in. One more thing to say, her eyes are as clear as new glass. "Don't be afraid to live Eliza, I know you have the chance to. You are amazing."

I lean down and kiss her forehead. "I love you mom."

"I love you too."

I hum until she falls asleep. Then I cry my eyes out silently. I am trying to hold on to the person I love most, the one person who truly believes in me. But I can't.

Mom doesn't wake up the next morning. And just like that, my life is completely lost.