Thoughts while in Utah

By Graham

Growing up, I always thought of my mom as a superhero. 

When I fell on my first attempt at walking, who was always there to pick me up? Mom. As I learned to ride a bike and inevitably fell off, who was there to hold me as I cried due to a skinned knee/elbow? And with one tender kiss made the pain go away like magic? Mom. Throughout all the years of illness, colds, strep-throat, car-sickness, it never ceased to amaze me that she was always there and somehow never got sick herself. Even while holding down a full-time job, she always had time to take care of me and my sisters. 

My Mom. My Invincible Mom. There was one time after a soccer practice, she was showing me a passing technique. She tripped and ended up breaking her elbow, however, she jumped right up and it was a few days before she went to the doctor's to get her arm checked. That was really the only time I ever knew her to be sick/physically injured. Even Superman had Kryptonite....

My Mom. My Loving Mom. She could be as vicious as a momma bear protecting her cubs, yet could be so tender, nurturing, loving, caring in those moments as she held me in her arms as a child and sang me to sleep. Even when I was older and in a far-off country having trouble sleeping at nights, I asked her to record the songs she used to sing and send them to me. Those songs were ever so sweet (even though I was 19) and I could hear the love she put in them just as I remembered them when I was 5. 

My Mom. My Hopeful Mom. Wanting her children to do well in school and have a better life than she had. Wanting us to succeed in every endeavor. Making sure the homework was done, up and dressed for school, never late. My Mom, who was disappointed when I failed a class. Not because I wasn't smart enough, but because I had been lazy and didn't give 110% of my full potential. Seeing that disappointment hurt worse than failing the class. 

My Mom. My Always Busy Mom. Always with some purpose, whether it was yard work, visiting others in the neighborhood, helping people with family research, carving walking sticks, Harry Potter wands for the grandkids, gavels, painting woodland creatures on rocks, drawing, creating her own Christmas cards, the list goes on. Every moment had some purpose behind it. It was as if moving, doing something, is what kept her alive. 

In July I flew to Utah to be with my mom for a few weeks before leaving on our cruise. It was great to spend time with her. Living across the country, I only had the chance to go home for a Christmas here and there. This was really the first time since '05 to just be there without any outside distractions. It was obvious she needed someone there to help with daily tasks, cooking, getting to her appointments. It was also obvious what effects the cancer was having on her brain. My mom was always sharp as a tack, yet now she was having trouble with remembering small things. For me this was the hardest point to deal with. I had the fear that one morning she would wake up and see me cooking breakfast or reading in the living room and not know who I was or how I got into her house. 

Dealing with cancer is already a huge blow to our family. Dealing with brain cancer (especially since it is located in her frontal lobes) feels like a double-edged sword, almost as if she is suffering from Alzheimer's at the same time. 

I was able to drive down to Sheelagh's place last week and see Mom again. As Sheelagh has stated before, there are small glimpses of Moms old self: when she laughed at some jokes, showed concern for our long day of driving back to Michigan ahead of us, or when she got in a good quip in here and there during the conversation. Those are the small moments when my Superhero Mom shines through.