Today was a better day. I’ve noticed that when her pain is bearable she decides to put on her wig to simply wear around the house. It’s a cute little number that we bought together months ago. It was the first one the shop owner picked for her. I remembered the way the small Korean woman looked at my mother when she told her that she had cancer. There was sympathy, with a pinch of pity, in her eyes. She gazed long and hard at my mother after embracing her tightly. This was a woman we didn’t even know. I was amazed at her compassion. I asked my mother later if that bothered her. She said that it didn’t but she wished that people wouldn’t dwell.
Right before dinner some of my mother’s church friends stopped by for a visit. It’s dizzying to listen to people jump around a conversation – making awkward attempts at avoiding any cancer related subject matter. The visit did seem to lift my mother’s spirits though; and when finally asked directly if she wanted to discuss her dismal prognosis, she brushed it off almost cheerily saying that it was a conversation best left for another day.
After the guests left and dinner was had, I took the kids into her room to sit awhile. These are the times when her spirits seem the highest. They look at magazines together on her bed and have senseless conversations. It’s so sweet yet so painful to watch. Each time, I can’t help but wonder if it will be the last.