A year after my mom was diagnosed with inoperable colon cancer and given a year to live, she and I had a small "party" honoring her stubbornness and refusal to allow her doctor to be correct. I made a small yellow cake, chocolate frosting - it was my favorite she used to make me.
She could only eat a bite as by that time I was feeding her just bites at a time. She had no appetite - the massive amounts of morphine I gave her throughout the day/night made certain she threw up every bite. Even water was hard to keep down by then. She took her bite of the
cake though and, because she was a mother, complimented me and said she would like to eat the whole thing. Most of the bite she took was still on the fork. She laid back - I had sat her up but even those few moments were tiring by then, and she smiled. Her smile always
melted my will, calmed my heart, and loved my soul. It was fleeting then, the pain pushing her smile back. But I saw it and held it in my mind even as her beautiful face showed the effects of a year of cancer treatment for a cancer that was all over her body. It was everywhere as
it knew to take her it would have to destroy all of her. She was small, having lost half her body weight by now. Her golden skin now ironically brown as if the cancer wanted to break free of her and show the world it was winning. It would win. She held it off, though, for six
more months. Painful, heartbreaking, lifetaking, god-hating, family-ignoring months. Just the two of us. All day and brutally all night as she screamed in pain and for medication that by now was painful morphine suppositories gently guided by me in the middle of the night.
Waiting for her to fall asleep and seeing her in the dark, still, frail, joining with the darkness. Her light dim & dimming. The last six months were unspeakably terrible, the slow ripping away of life, the shearing of love, the separation of soul from body, of mother from child
By the end I wanted it to end for her. And me. She did not deserve the hell god, the Universe, or whatever whoever put her through cancer. I'll never accept their apology if they even bothered to offer it. She died 36 years ago tomorrow and as most who've lost their mother
will tell you, 36 years is like 36 minutes. It was just a moment ago she passed. In a hospice. Quiet. Surrounded by four women - all nurses - and I. Like how she was born, with her mom & three midwives in a small cabin in Marion, La. Brought into the world by women & escorted
out of this world by women. It was yesterday and yesteryear. It would be many years before I externally cried about losing my mom, but I grieved her all day every day. And I still do. I'll never let it go, never move on. Grief is my friend. I only have one mother & as I told her
one time in the middle of the night: I'll always think about you and miss you. Like moms will do, she lovingly placated me, saying: "You say that now. But you're just twenty years old. She was only 39. "You're not even a man yet. I won't get to see you as a man, so you will
always be my baby."


I cry for her all the time now. It can happen any time of day or night. And I grieve and when it hits I welcome it and I love it. The grief takes me back to those nights alone in the dark with mom, gently trying to put lotion on her, touching &
smelling her beautiful hair which defied chemo and actually got thicker and longer.

Black women and their defiance.

Loving her when there was only two of us in the universe.
Don't Rest In Peace mom.

Be up and about doing your thing, lighting the world you're in and enjoying the rain like you taught me to.

I grieve for you in love, as always.

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More from @DearDean22

31 Dec 20
Hello, friend. It is the last day of the year & I have a few words for you. You had a good year & I am proud of you. You adjusted your entire life to get through a plague & pandemic & you did so w/little to no help from our Government. You switched gears, started new jobs, began
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26 May 20
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