In an hour, I’ll go see Nicky and Michael in their school Thanksgiving program. I will put a smile on my face to shield a heart that aches for cancer moms who lost their babies and cancer moms still heavy in the struggle and my Justin sick and forlorn on the couch.
Hold the smile in place. Keep steady. Say the expected pleasantries. Then return home to fight immunodeficiency with organic spinach. Because I have to DO something.
”I have to start my chemo again so I won’t die.”
”Why are you saying that?”
”It’s okay, mom. If I die, I’ll just go to heaven.”
Is this fear talking? Fatigue? I honestly don’t know. I asked all the “right” questions and said all the “right” things. But despite all my best Mom instincts and efforts, I still can’t REALLY know what exactly goes on in the minds of my children.
Hold the smile in place. Keep steady. Say the expected pleasantries.
But please don’t ask me how I’m doing today. I can’t quite explain it and I’m too exhausted to try.