Wife Anonymous

My mother passed away on Thursday, Sept. 13th, 2007. I was often annoyed when my mom would call to ask how the weather in town was. Now, I wish she would call me to ask me anything. I think the thing I miss the most is her voice. I want her to call to see if my son’s nose is still runny or if my daughter had a good day at school. I want to know what she really hoped for me when I grew up. I want her to be at my kids graduations and weddings. I want to call her and ask her how to cook things and ask her about the best way to hem my pants. I want to hear her voice again for any reason in the world.

My mom is dying. I don’t want her to. She has melanoma. The doctors thought she had another 6 months, but the cancer is really aggressive. 3 weeks ago tomorrow, the doctors said she had 2 – 3 weeks left to live. 6 days ago, they said she had between 3 hours and 3 days left of life. No one has been able to speak with her for almost two weeks now. For awhile, she would be alert after that, but only when she was in pain and all she’d say was “Help me, God please help me.” Then she’d just look through us. Now she’s just asleep. She doesn’t look like my mom anymore. The minister came and said a prayer over her. My sister said it’s a weird thing, waiting for someone to die. She said that you spend your whole life hoping everyone will stay alive and then suddenly you’re hoping for them to die. She said it was ridiculous that mom is still alive. I don’t want mom to be in pain, but I don’t want her to die. I want my mom back, the way she was at Christmas last year. I want to hear her voice again. I want to hear her complain about my dad and how he fills the bird feeders. I want to tell her about my kids and all the funny things they say and do. On my 30th birthday, the doctor said that we should move her into hospice. She didn’t say happy birthday to me. She’ll never say happy birthday to me again.