In the end, it was being with other people that helped.
Not that they knew.
Why should they? Why should I burden strangers with the knowledge.
I had worried about being so far away when Mum heard but now her treatment is decided. The colorectal cancer is in a place where the only solution is radical resectioning and the creation of a permanent stoma.
She hasn’t had a chance to ask more detailed questions. But will when she sees the Consultant on Tuesday.
There may be chemotherapy after the surgery. She knows that much. And we sat – after a relaxed and lovely lunch today – and thought about what else she needs to ask – about what she needs or wants to know.
My Mother is inspiring. The clear-sighted determination with which she approaches this. The calm insight.
I, on the other hand, have been a disgrace. A weltering bubbling mess of howling anger and pain and fear barely held back and threatening – at grossly insignificant and banal moments – to overwhelm.
I am become a small sobbing and frightened child again. Lost. Calling for a mother I fear is gone.
I need to get a grip.
My Mother – like her old Grandpa all those years ago – maybe as many as 100 years ago in fact – will survive. Will continue. Will endure.
She’s going nowhere. None of us are letting her go.