Time Marches On

Today is Sunday. Sunday, April 24. One week since my mom died. One week. Soon it will be one week since we buried her, then two, then three, then a month, then months, then a year, then years. Time marches on. I want time to stop. I want to go back to when she was healthy and whole. I want to go back and have time stop. I don’t want anything after that. All that is now, I don’t want. I want all that was then.

My sister had a health scare a few months ago. Her heartbeat was off and she was having trouble breathing. She went to the ER. She dismissed it as stress, anxiety, panic attack. She did not want anyone to worry. Today, one week after my mom’s death, I found out that she has a spot on her lung. Oh my God. They don’t think it is cancer, they think it is scar tissue from when she almost died as a baby from pneumonia. She did not tell anyone but her husband and her best friend. She did not want our mom to worry. This news would have killed my mom before the cancer did. They will monitor my sister now, regular check-ups to make sure it is not growing. The fear continues.

I told my sister today the real reason of my leaving the Rosie O’Donnell Show back in 1998. Our mom found some lumps in her breast. She was terrified it was cancer. The tests took forever. I left the show to be with her. The thought of losing her was too much. I did not regret leaving the show. My mom wanted me to stay in New York, but she was scared. She had no one else. I am glad that I left. I simply said they did not have a position for me. Nothing in this world is more important than family. Once you lose your family you are left with nothing. It wasn’t cancer then, a close call, but it did not matter. The seed had been planted. My mom’s mortality became real. I became aware. I returned home and never regretted it.

So there it is…secrets coming out.

Today I cried because I realized that I will never play Yatzee with my mom again. I know I will never do anything with my mom again…it doesn’t hurt as much in the vague, general sense. It cuts to the core when you think of the specific things you will never do together again. We will never play Yatzee again. We will never watch Desperate Housewives, Survivor or The Apprentice again. We will never eat supper together again. We will never laugh together again. We will never do anything again. Never is a very long time when you are stuck on this Earth. I hate “never”.

On Days of Our Lives all the dead are returning home. We watched that show every day at noon. She and I will never watch that show together again. All those who were believed to be dead are not. They are held captive in a faraway place. Everyone grieved and mourned their loss at funeral after funeral. But now…a miracle. The dead are alive and are coming home. I know that it is not real life; it is pretend, make-believe, fake. But my mind drifts and wonders “what if”. What if there was a way she could come back? What if this is all just a horrible mistake? What if this is just a terrible nightmare?

Sometimes I hate TV. It is no escape. It should be, but it isn’t. It is a reminder of the truth. Shortly after my mom was diagnosed with cancer I was watching Survivor on TV. The episode was the one where one of the contestants quit the show because she sensed that her mom was dying. She left to return home and her mom died 8 days later of cancer. This summer watching Last Comic Standing…more truth…Raphie walked out on stage to perform. Face streaked with a river of tears. His dad just died from cancer. He told his father’s favorite jokes. My mom cried. She made me promise that I would never give up on my dreams. That I would be like Ralphie and continue to do stand-up comedy. I promised her I would as I cried and prayed I would never be in Ralphie’s shoes. So many moments like that. The week she was in the hospital TV was the Angel of Death. Every channel aired death…Johnny Cochran, Terri Schivo, the Pope. We watched Desperate Housewives that week. Opening scene was the funeral of Carlos’ mother. I wanted to puke. It all seemed like a sick joke.

And now the dead are returning on Days of Our Lives. Another sick joke.