fear of tomorrow

Tomorrow is my mom’s birthday. We would be celebrating it in a grand way if she were still alive. I had been planning on throwing her a huge party since she had been through so much this past 14 months. I was going to rent out a party room and have a huge party and invite all of her friends. She always hated the thought of a birthday party. My mom hated to be the center of attention, even on her birthday. For some strange reason she agreed to the party this year. That was the plan before everything went wrong. Now it will be a day of not celebrating, but a day of missing her deeply.

I found an email that she sent to me a year ago tomorrow. Last year her birthday was on a Friday and I was working in the cities. I came up to Little Falls after work and we had planned on going out for supper if she was feeling well enough because of her chemotherapy. We ended up going to Applebee’s for her birthday supper. She loved Applebee’s. All of us were there…my sister, her husband, their baby girl, my brother, my step-dad, my mom and I. No one fought, which is strange for our family.

Among the presents I gave her was the movie Dances with Wolves. She wanted it on tape since they had a VCR and not a DVD player. It was almost impossible to find it on tape. I went to a million stores that week to find it. I didn’t think I would, but in the end I did. Suncoast came through in the nick of time. I also gave her a Willow Tree Angel that she loved. It was to give her hope. Hope that she would get through this and have a birthday someday that was cancer free. That day never came. None of us ever thought for a minute that it would be her last birthday. But, once again things never turn out the way you hope. It indeed was the last time we would be together with her to celebrate her birthday. You always think there will be another…

Tonight I was going through some boxes and came across her purse. I opened it and started to look through some of the pockets. She had some photos, her Footprints poem on a wallet card from the cancer center, her license, and a bunch of other odds and ends. But, the hardest thing was seeing the grocery list from the last time we went to the store together. It was a grocery list, in her handwriting on her favorite notepad, for all the things we needed to get for Easter dinner. A dinner we never had because she was too sick. She had been fine when we went shopping earlier in the week, but a few days later she wasn’t ok. She was dying at that point but no one knew. Not even her. Easter morning she woke me up early to help her make the dessert because she could not even use the mixer, she was too weak and had trouble breathing. I felt she should have gone in to the hospital and seen a doctor. She figured it was just due to the side-effects of her treatment. She was in rough shape. She insisted that we still go to Melissa’s for Easter. I knew there was no way she could physically do it. I told her that it would not be a good idea to go. She felt terrible, but did not argue further. She knew in her heart she was too sick to go. She was so upset because she felt she ruined Easter but I told her it was fine. She then insisted that I still go. There was no way I was going to leave her on Easter, so I stayed home with her despite her protests. We did nothing but watch TV and talk all day long. She felt bad, but I could also tell that she was happy I stayed home with her. There is nothing worse than being alone on the holidays. I was alone once for Easter when I was studying abroad in college. It was a horrible feeling. I called home and talked to my mom. She was busy making the Easter dinner for everyone. She cried and told me that she missed me. I went to Easter Mass by myself and then I sat in my room and ate some Jelly Belly jelly beans that cost a fortune. A miserable Easter to say the least. I was never alone on Easter again after that.

So there it is…out of everything that was in her purse, a grocery list is what took my breath away and knocked me to the ground. A grocery list. It is the unexpected and ordinary things like a grocery list that sometimes hurts the most. A grocery list, an everyday thing that you would never think twice about, is one of the biggest reminders that they are gone. The small things add up so quickly and carry so much weight.

I don’t want to go to sleep. I know when I wake up I am going to be in a world of hurt. I fear tomorrow. And when you fear tomorrow, it makes today unbearable.