This Christmas was wonderful. My children were spoiled beyond comprehension, and most importantly, my mother was right there to witness it. The doctors told her months ago that she wouldn’t make it to the holidays. She’s proved them wrong and continues to fight a miraculous fight. She was strong enough to sit at the dinner table with us for Christmas dinner, and she outdid us all by consuming two healthy servings of desert.
There are many days where she feels hopeless. Not one to be defeated, I continue to provide her with the fighting words and spirit that she so desperately needs to hear. On Christmas day she told me that she didn’t realize that she had raised such a fighter.
“That’s how you raised me to be momma” I told her.
She smiled with approval as she drifted off to sleep.
Sometimes I’m afraid that my optimism is silly – knowing that I can’t do a thing about her prognosis I often fear that people may perceive my positivity as a maniacal hope – as simply a frivolous dream; But I believe that the more my mother concentrates on the positives, and carries her faith in God in her heart, the longer she’ll hold on. Silly to some I’m sure, but this is how I choose to carry on.
My mother told me of a personal story that her nurse recently shared with her. Her father was taken to the doctor with health concerns of his own. He was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Two weeks later he passed on. My mother has been fighting her fight for a little over two years. If that’s not God, I don’t know what is.
Here’s to my mother bringing in another year.