I drove home from my mother’s house this past weekend wishing like crazy I could reverse time, be sixteen again. No children, no responsibilities, just sit near my mother soaking up the precious moments left of her life. In the final stages of her pancreatic cancer, she is so sick it pains me to watch her suffer, but at the same time I hate the hundreds of miles that separate me from her when I go home. I can feel the end coming, and even if it’s a month away, it’s not enough time. And worse, what if I’m not there when she passes?
Somehow I know the burdens that make me return home, will be my saving grace when my mother is gone. My children, husband, and home, focusing on their needs will pull me out of the funk of depression threatening to overcome me. Oh, how I wish, just for a little while longer, they didn’t exists. My mommy is dying and I can’t be there. I can’t imagine life without my mommy. Who will I ask for advice now? My children are so young. There’s so much I don’t know. I just need…more time…to live closer. Neither option is possible—a truth and a heartache I can’t escape.