MOG #80: To be loved

Matt- one of my dearest friends with one of the biggest hearts, has something to share...

“I Love You”

“To be loved, what more could you ask for?”

Today was difficult. I felt my Dad shake as he tried not to break down to tears with me in the passenger seat. I met my sister with open arms and held her as she went from inexpressive to sobbing as soon as she hugged me. I saw the look of fear and defeat in my Mother’s eyes as she mouthed words she was too broken to say out loud, and hugged her with an unparalleled warmth of compassion as tears filled my eyes. I’ll always remember the nurse’s voice, it was so gentle and caring that I barely even felt it.

Today we were told that my Mom’s breast cancer has metastasized to her brain. The kind they don’t operate on. There’s radiation, but it will only help for a short period of time, if at all. I was in a chair by her hospital bed when we heard the news, and it felt like my mind went dead. The feeling is indescribable. Defeated, in the calmest way. Today has happened so fast. I woke up to the sound of her sobbing, we admitted her to hospital, and heard the results of an MRI scan, all in just a few hours. It was something we’d suspected from her recent decline in mobility, but it isn’t until you hear the words out loud that it actually becomes real. For me, I don’t know if it’s fully sunk in yet that we will only have a few more weeks together.

There’s a strong sense of helplessness hanging over me. I think it’s hanging over all of us. I spent 8 hours in the hospital with her, and still feel like I didn’t do enough. The nurses say she’ll be back home in a few days, hopefully, so that she can spend her last days with us. For now, she’s in a hospital bed 20 minutes away, and there’s nothing we can do about it. So what do you do then?

We take the highway there. There’s a sign on one of the overpasses: “I love you,” in red and blue cutout letters. I don’t know how long it’s been there, but today was the first time I’ve seen it. Honestly, it was one of the most beautiful things I’ve seen in my entire life. For me, right there, love felt like enough. What a selfless thing to do. To the person who put those words there, I express my gratitude, and hope they realize that their selfless act gave me something I didn’t even know I needed. I had to feel like love was enough.

Mom says it’s the little things that she’s misses the most: taking our dog for a walk, having the energy to go outside, hugging me with both arms. But nothing in this world can ever take away the love: the love we have for her, the love she has for us, the love we have for each other. Nothing. Love will keep us together, and love will keep us strong. All we can do is show my Mom how much we truly love her. But, as a stranger with a pair of scissors and two sheets of Bristol board showed me, that can be enough.

Tomorrow morning I’m heading back to the hospital. I’m going to ask her, as hard as it may be, to write a letter to me for my graduation, for my wedding day, and for any other occasion where she should be there with me, but can’t. It’s going to be one of the hardest things I’ll ever have to do, and I know it will hurt her to hear me ask it. All I can do is hope she realizes that it’s a gesture of love, not sadness. It’s my way of having her there by my side in those times of happiness, and letting her share in those moments with me, even if she can’t be there. And, when I’m older, I know that I will reflect back fondly on the years we’ve spent together, the time we’ve shared as a family, and the memories we’ve made together. And there will be only love.