Member-only story
When I learned very shortly before her death — that my mother had terminal lung cancer — this was The Thing I latched on to and pre-grieved. The loss of Future Shared Moments.
I was twelve years old.
But even at that young age — I understood Death.
The loss of my mother’s physical presence was and remains a devastating event in My Life. A something I grew around and at times scarred down to. But more than anything — at that moment — I knew I was done making memories of her.
She was lying in an ICU with pneumonia and the beginning of the congestive heart failure which would end her life in just seven short days.
We would never bake pumpkin pies together again during the holidays.
There would be no more marathon shopping trips, complete with off-key sing-alongs all the way home.
I would never be on the receiving end of The Look at mass again or hear her voice firmly punctuate the end of a sentence with the word, “Capisce?!”
No more arms to hug me, no more kisses good night, no more comfort in the face of All. The. Things I was going to have to face.
No more memories to keep.
I had all I was allotted. This was going to have to do. So in those pre-grieving of the grieving days, I sifted…
