It has taken me a couple days to start writing about it, but yesterday at suppertime I sat down and wrote, and it helped. I spent last evening calm and tearless, and slept all night. This I attribute to the writing, rightly or wrongly.

Not that the tears are not back this morning, before I even opened my eyes. My heart is flailing about wildly, and I don't want to be here. I want to be with my mom and dad, right frigging now.

Next Wednesday I will be, for one week. Perhaps I'll be settled down enough by then to be something besides a sad, scared child in their presence.

I love and need my mom, and am and have been well loved by her, more than I deserve, and right now I can not imagine a more horrible thing than this. There is no comfort, none at all, except that right now she is feeling so good that it is hard to believe she has a terminal illness. And she is brave and strong and beautiful and setting an incredible example to all of us. Damn straight I'm going to do everything I can to be there for her and Dad and my sisters and brother, if they need me.

Everywhere I look are the signs of my Mom's kindness and generosity. On my kitchen counter, on the walls, on the beds, everywhere. Those are my comforts right now. Lord knows there's little of that to be found anywhere.