Lately, I swear I can feel every emotion known to man within a five minute span.  Since learning about my mom’s cancer, I can barely concentrate on being a functional mom for my kids, writing has completely gone by the way side.  Which I know is normal, but in a weird and probably twisted way I miss it, maybe even need it to pull myself out of the funk I’m in, but I haven’t found a way to crawl back into my creativity.

I think it’s the whole countdown-to-death I’m living under.  “Everyone dies,” I’ve always told my children, “never fear it.”  But having experienced the death of many love ones, I think I prefer the quick, unplanned versions.  Sometimes I feel like I’m already mourning her loss and she isn’t even gone yet.  Yes, I know, sick, sick, sick, and twisted, but it’s what’s happening.  When someone dies suddenly, it’s like getting a Band-Aid ripped off your heart—really, really painful at first but somehow the feeling lessens.  What I’m experiencing now is like someone tearing the Band-Aid off one millimeter at a time—a continual, never-ending ache.  As my friend who lost her mother a few years ago said so succinctly, “Cancer sucks!”