My mother died today.
We are down to the final moments, at least the final days. Her skin is blothcy, her breathing is raspy. My handbook tells me this is when the countdown begins. Any moment now she’ll be gone.
I will never be ready to have her gone, but I am so ready for her to die I was begging for it on the drive home.
I held her and told her quietly to just let go.
So now it’s my turn.
So today must be one of the hard days. The nurse from hospice care gave me a little pamphlet about death, about the signs of death. My mother won’t eat and maybe that’s harder for me than some people because my life revolves around food, but I can’t handle it. I sit there begging her to eat and she yells at me. She looks like a holocaust victim, every day I see her she’s worse. She not really my mother anymore, shes just a body that makes noise sometimes.
I just want this to be done with. If they told me they could cure her today I wouldn’t want it, I never want to do this again. Mothers die, and people move on. I just want to reach the “moving on” point. Though maybe that will just involve more waiting.
I have always found rainy days quite romantic, especially when wandering through chinatown and sharing an umbrella(rather “ambrella” as one hand written sign advertised). Bobby doesn’t seem to feel the same way.
I decided to spoil myself with some cake supplies. I cannot wait until they arrive, its really pathetic. It’s like christmas-except st. Nicholas is replaced with St. Honore. I just want to stay home all day and make cake.
It seems to have finally struck midnight at quebrada and my job has turned back into a real job, not just being paid to work 65 hours playing with buttercream. I have been having strange pain in my hands, they keep going numb while I sleep. I think I need to see a doctor but maybe it will fix itself. I should really go to bed now but I don’t want to.
I hope I caan get out of my house soon Im beginning to lose it. I havent heard from most people in ages. Though thats probably my own fault. I feel like I went away for a bit and convinced myself everyone was done with me. My anxiety has truly taken the best ofo me, and now I’m afraid to call. The fact is I haven’t told many whts going on, because I know it’s not an excuse. I knew how to have friends at one point, I don’t know what happened. (They will say “Oh,but how his arms and legs grow thin”)
I should sleep, I should sleep.