When my parents left 3 weeks ago I found so much comfort in the fact that I knew it wasn't goodbye. Not yet. Because my dad had asked me again to come, and I agreed.
On Wednesday I got the call I'd been expecting, the one that said start thinking about making your goodbye trip.
I saw a dress recently that I really wanted for my girl Olive. It was way above my price range, but something I knew I could sew, and in a fabric I actually already possesed.
(How I deal with my mom's pending death? By buying way too much fabric. Not sure it's cheaper than Crack. Or any less addictive.)
My mom and I talked about the dress I was hoping to make. I sent her a picture of the inspiration, modeled by a 4ish year old girl. A girl with blond big girl hair.
Thursday morning, before coffee, I got a message from my dad.
"She thinks the model in the picture is Olive. I cannot convince her otherwise."
(Light but still) brown haired, short haired, petite 22 month old Olive? The same girl who just last week started sporting her very first pig tails? It was almost all we talked about the week before. Yay! Pigtails! Almost two and she finally has pigtails! There had been pictures emailed, discussions over how to best harness them, and a ridiculous amount celebration.
Maybe she meant that the dress itself was "so Olive"?
Later that night when we talked on the phone she brought it up. "I am so mad at your father. Can you belive he doesn't even know his own granddaughter in a picture when he sees her?!"
Remember last week Mom? The pigtails? Do you remember?
And to then hear her voice at the other end of the line... Heartbreaking.
Cancer is cruel.
So I'm making plans to make plans. With every day that passes she seems two days closer to death.
But when? If I go too late it will be like I'm not even there. If I go too soon she knows that we've given up on her. I don't have the answers and I don't know how or where to find them.