One Night Stand, Then My Mate

Andrea Smith

“Mom, you don’t have to get up. I can get you a drink. You need to rest.” She huffs and puffs at me for being so over protective of her and her health. She’s been diagnosed with stage three lung cancer. She’s been expected to have at least five more years left to live, but the odds aren’t in our favor and from the looks of it she has a month maybe only weeks left. So I’ll be damned if she doesn’t let me get her a damn glass of water.

“Caroline, baby, you and i both know good and well that I’m capable of getting a cup of water. I’m sick, but i can still function enough to walk to the sink.” I want to cry in this moment. No one is ready to lose their momma, especially me. “Mom, it’s not that you aren’t capable, it’s just that I want to do things for you. You’ve taken care of me and Lyssie all our lives, let us be here for you now.”

I can tell this is irritating her. She’s looking at me with her blue eyes rocking back and forth. She only does this when she’s mad or upset. I used to point it out, but it makes her even more mad because her moms eyes do the same and she despises her mom. “Baby, you’re a doctor. You take care of people day in and day out. I’ve worked in the hospital for more than half of my life. I know how this is going to end. I know how my battle will go. Just give me these next few weeks to do things. I don’t want my last few weeks laying up in a bed wasting away.”

Her reply hits me hard. I feel hit deep within my heart. I feel it in my stomach. This is all so surreal. The strongest woman I know, being torn down by cancer of all things. Years before this if you would’ve told me my momma was going to fight cancer I would’ve put money on my momma. She’s a fighter. She’s so brave and so strong. I would’ve thought my momma of all people would’ve been a survivor of this black hole of a disease.

But that isn’t the reality. The reality is cancer never even gave her a fighting chance. It hit her with everything it’s got and more and it’s not going to let up. And i pray every night that momma somehow some way makes it out of this with breath still in her lungs. But I know, as a doctor, that’s not how her story will end.

We spend the next couple of hours on the back patio at her house. My home. I can smell her fresh lavender that has just bloomed. The rose bushes look even brighter with color today. The sun is bright and warm, but not too warm. The sky is the perfect shade of blue with white fluffy clouds. The day is perfect. There’s a hummingbird at the bird feeder by the oak tree. The sun is shining down on her auburn hair. Her blue eyes are lit up and for a moment i forget she’s even dying.

“You know Caroline, I am so proud of you and your sister. Out of all the things in my life that I have accomplished, you two are my greatest ones. And not a day goes by that I don’t thank my lucky stars for the time I’ve had with the two of you. I got to grow old and watch you guys grow up and accomplish things of your own and with that I know that it’s okay for me to go.” A silent tear rolls down my cheek. “I love you momma”. She searches my eyes “i love you most baby”.

I can tell she’s feeling tired, so i move to the outdoor couch instead of the chair and pat the spot next to me. When she makes her way over I lay her head down in my lap. She asked me to read to her so I do. ‘Anne of Green Gables’. It’s my favorite book of all time. I can remember her reading this to me when i was little. She would brush my hair back behind my ear and in that moment i felt like everything was going to be okay. So I’ll do the same.

We sit and read for an hour it feels like and I’m soaking up every minute of it. She makes like “hmm” noises and “uh huh’s” to some of the parts as if she can remember reading them to me. It warms my heart. I brush back a strand of her hair and I want to kiss her head and tell her how much I love her and how everything will be okay. But i can’t tell her that. She knows I love her. She knows that I am not ready for her to go. She knows that she’s going to die and leave us behind. So i don’t. I continue reading. She strokes my knee and lays a small kiss on it.

As I’m reading I feel her still in my lap. She feels heavier than she did just moments before. Something in the air changes. I stop reading and put a bookmark on the spot i where I had finished. I think to myself that she’s fallen asleep and i question how I’ll manage to get her inside by myself. I can do a lot of things, but i don’t think I’ll be able to carry my 60 year old momma in the house by myself.

I slide my thighs out from under her and walk inside to grab a blanket to wrap around her. When i walk back outside from retrieving the blanket, I lay it over her stilled body and tuck her in. I plant a small kiss on her head and whisper the words “i love you” in her ear. When i kiss her her head felt cold to the touch. It didn’t feel like momma.

I sinking feeling hits me and I panic. I check her pulse repeating the words “No. No. No. No” out loud. There is no pulse. My momma is gone. My mommy is dead. My head buries into her chest and i scream and cry and shake my fist at the sky. I’m not ready. We needed more time. We were supposed to have more time. Oh momma. Momma! Momma!

I pick up my phone from the side table and dial 911. The ambulance is on its way. I cry and scream and beg and pray for the 15 minutes it takes the ambulance to get here. Once they arrive, they check her pulse. The listen for her heart. But there’s nothing they can do. Seeing my momma leave this earth was the hardest things I’ve ever had to experience. Her being with me one moment kissing my knee and her being lifeless the next. I can’t. I can’t do this.

The medics ask if they can call anyone for me considering the mess I am right now and I hand him my phone with my sisters number ready to hit dial. They inform lyssie that momma is gone and I swear I can hear her shriek through his ear out the other. I can hear her heart shattering across the floor. The same way mine did.

After everything is said and done and I’ve talked to lyssie about everything we say our goodbyes and agree to set up her funeral arrangements tomorrow. I reminisce the last few hours of today I had with her. Her words are on repeat in my head and her kiss is still burning that spot on my knee. I’m thankful I got to be here with her. I’m thankful I got to hear her goodbyes before I knew what they were. But nothing will ever make me feel better about this other than her hugs. I miss you already momma.