272. Mom

It is 2:30 am and technically I missed posting yesterday. The last 40 hours I have been so focused and worried about my mom that I only thought about my blog once. As the clock passed midnight and I was waiting for her to be discharged from the ER I realized I didn't take one photograph all day.

Last night she was up most the night, agitated and in pain. She only calmed down if I rested my hand on her. I sat next to her much of the night and I realized that since my step-dad died she must long for simple physical touch. Sure we give her hugs and kisses, but after all those years of having someone sleep next to her, rub her feet, squeeze like a bear, and cover her face with kisses, she must be starving. A mate touches you in a way that is hard to substitute. But simply resting my hand on her shoulder was comforting. I eventually grew so tired I had to try to sleep myself. I would try to leave her and she would wake back up in an agitated state.

As my mom's health wanes we hold out hope (pray it is not false hope), hope that her decline is only temporary and she will ultimately improved. I think it is human nature to believe this way, or else it is too painful to face the present.

Cheesy as it may sound... I have had this Thompson Twins song in my head all day:

I have a picture,


pinned to my wall.


An image of you and of me and we're laughing and loving it all.


Look at our life now, tattered and torn.


We fuss and we fight and delight in the tears that we cry until dawn



Hold me now, warm my heart


stay with me, let loving start