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Dec 15, 2006

I had a memory... or was it a dream? I can never tell. It's always been hard to pinpoint the moment the moment when my world began to fall apart. But now, I think I can.
    I was about five or so, when this dream memory took place. I was in the woods behind my house with my family. My mother, my father, my sister, my brother. We were there as a family, just taking a walk in the woods. I remember being afraid of getting lost. I sat on a rock, just thinking, what if we don't make it home? This is where i find it hard to distinguish dream from reality. My mother knelt down before me. She told me, "I will never let you get lost."
    Did this really happen, I don't know. I'd like to think that it did. I look back on this dream memory and find myself missing something. I want to run to my mother and tell her that I am lost. That I am missing and I am afraid that she'll never find me. Once again I am afraid of not making it home.
    When I finally muster up the courage to run to her and tell her this; to scream my emotions at her; I lose all my breath. To see this woman, who was once my pillar of strength, sick and unable to move on her own most of the time, I die inside. I feel as though now I am the mother and the pillar of strength. To see this woman, sick and bald from chemotherapy, this woman, who is still the goddess in my eyes, I run and hide. I can not let her see my tears.
    Is that wrong? I don't think so. I am built of this woman's strength and love. I can not scream at her, I don't blame her for my problems. I want to cry when I look at her. I want to cradle her like she once cradled me and tell her it will all be ok. Even if it's not.
    As much as I want to tell her I am lost in the woods, I can't. No that's not when my world fell apart. The crushing blow came shortly after that.
    It hit like a tornado. Tearing apart my shelter, my home. This thing that fed off of us, drained us of our very life.
    My mother was diagnosed with breast cancer in 1993. A six year old , too young to fully understand, but old enough to fear it. I knew what it meant when i heard those words. I was going to lose my mommy.
    My fear of being lost turned to a fear of losing. I regret that i don't remember much of my mother before this demon attacked her. But I realize now, that doesn't matter. What matters are the good days. The days she wasn't too tired to sit outside or cook us dinner. The trips we took to florida, conneticut, even just to presquisle or the grocery store. I learned to live for the good days.
    Yet, even on 'not-so-good' days, she amazed me. You could never tell that she had this demon inside of her.
    Someone told me, when someone passes on, they transfer a piece of their soul into the people closest to them. I would like to think that true. I would like to believe that a piece of my mother, my lifeline... the woman I took care of and nurtured, to have a piece of her inside me, gives me hope. Hope that tomorrow will be better. Hope that my dreams really can come true. Hope that when I have children of my own, I can do for them, what was done for me.
    I will go on, I will be the pillar of strength. If she taught me anything, it was that all you need to get through life is one little four letter word. HOPE
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Posted: Friday December 15, 2006, 8:54 pm
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Jessica Thompson
female, age 27, committed relationship
Auburn, ME, USA
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