Sweet Oblivion

One year ago I would step outside my door and smell the warm scent of wood-burning and pine trees. Andy and I took trips to Island towns and ate at mediocre restaurants. I was sick with the yuck that wouldn't let go. I was feeling really pregnant. I was starting to show. I was worrying about the family invading our house for Thanksgiving.

One year ago, I talked to my Mom on the phone almost every day. I called her for help with recipes. I called her to tell about my ultrasound, and the pregnancy, and all of doctor's appointments, and to complain about aches and pains and frustrations that come with expecting a child. She sounded tired and a little worried, but overall ok.

One year ago this last weekend was my Mom's last good day.

One year ago I was finding a hotel for Mom and Dad to stay in when they came to visit us for Thanksgiving. I was checking in with Mom to see when they were coming, and if they were still driving.

One year ago we were starting to make plans about Mom and Dad coming to be with us when the baby was born. We were looking into long-term lodging. We were imagining a month of them being around. I was wondering if I would start to feel suffocated with my Mother hovering....

One year ago, when I looked ahead to this year, I saw myself spending the time between Thanksgiving and New Year's here with my folks so they could enjoy their grand-daughter.

One year ago... The word Cancer had NOTHING to do with my mother.

One year ago we were oblivious of the beast that would soon take over our lives.

One year ago happiness and joy looked a whole lot different.

It's no wonder I don't recognize my life some days.