Their visit was a surprise to Mom. I didn't tell her beforehand because I was afraid she'd ask them not to come. She's embarrassed at what the cancer has done to her appearance. But I felt confident that my mother would welcome them in the end. I was right. Mom burst into tears as soon they came through her front door. "I never thought I'd see you again," she gasped in total disbelief. Wrapping his arms around her, Jayson tenderly kissed her cheek. "I'm so glad to see you, Grandma," he said, choking out the words.
The weekend is over now. Time snatched away much too soon. Jayson and Nichole left this morning at 4:30 in order to catch a 7:00 AM flight back to St. Louis. They said their "Good-byes" last evening their grandmother before going to bed. I find it very bittersweet, almost surreal. I know it is the last time my son will ever see his maternal grandmother. It's a fact of life that I'm not ready to accept.
Today, I noticed that Mom seemed more rested than she did yesterday. Although I know she feels miserable, her mood is surprisingly good. I try my best to make her laugh; telling jokes or making up stories as the day goes by. We are simply enjoying each other's company. I couldn't ask for anything more. My dad believes she has improved since I arrived. I doubt this but it's good to hear.
It's hard for me to think of Mom being in pain. Yet I know she is. I often hear her moaning during her sleep: sounds I can barely stand. Rarely does my mother ever complain. She's afraid of showing any sign of weakness. She doesn't realize how strong she is. My mother has more courage than anyone I know. She won't allow cancer to win the war within her. Not yet. I pray for God to bring her some form of comfort. To allow her more time without so much pain.
Earlier this afternoon, Mom asked me to rub her back before taking a nap. She has trouble getting comfortable now, and often feels better in bed. Upon settling in, I carefully climbed in beside her. My hand delicately ran across her back in the hopes of soothing her; if only for a moment. Suddenly I felt it. A large lump (approximately the size of a tennis ball) in the middle of her back. My heart skipped a beat. How I wish I hadn't discovered this! I take small comfort in knowing that Mom isn't aware of it. She knows only of the pain. It is still more than anyone should ever have to endure.
On this earth I am the being between my mother and my son: the one in the middle. It's a privilege I don't take lightly. "Thank you, God, for giving me this gift." The gift of witnessing the love between a grandmother and her grandson. My mother. My son. For them it is not just a weekend that is over now, but a life-time.
