Moose Jaw Times Herald - - OPINION -

So I was down to $23.71 and it is the five-year an­niver­sary of my mom’s death. I felt very much like com­fort food and blew $18 of it on a pizza. This fed me twice so not a ter­ri­ble deal and hey, it was de­li­cious.

So now there are five bucks in the ac­count un­til I get paid in eight days. I can live with that as I have a lot more food than I need and a lot of cof­fee in the can.

But yeah, five years Mom has been gone. Five long years. Also at the end of the month will be the end of five years of vlog­ging ev­ery sin­gle day. That, in it­self, I did not think was go­ing to hap­pen as I did not ac­tu­ally go out of my way to do it.

The thing is, I feel like it was just a few months ago that Mom died. I re­mem­ber with full clar­ity sit­ting there for over two hours wait­ing for the end to come. When the end came it was ob­vi­ous.

The time I sat there I know was over two hours but I had lit­er­ally no con­cept of time and it felt like only a few mo­ments as I was in­tensely fo­cused on her.

I imag­ined it would be the same as when Dad died, and a dev­as­tat­ing blow. But in­stead it was a re­lief as she had lin­gered on a long time as a shell of what she used to be. He mind long gone and her body less than 80 lbs. She looked like some­thing from the ar­chive pho­tos of the death camps (not to be­lit­tle that tragedy).

Be­fore she was veg­e­ta­tive, she had gone blind and was in a state of fear as she was al­ready see­ing and hear­ing things that where not there. The can­cer had spread to the brain, you see.

Be­fore that, she had lost the abil­ity to talk and feed her­self. Be­fore that, she was talk­ing to peo­ple long dead and point­ing at the dog that was not there and speak­ing of things that could not be.

She was at one time a strong per­son who en­joyed life and had a lot of love to give this world. She was my rock in a time where I was lost to de­pres­sion, and the rea­son I am still here to­day.

It was the most dif­fi­cult thing I have ever done — to watch her fade into what she be­came, then to just lay there, rot­ting away. So you can see why I was re­lieved.

Her suf­fer­ing and the ter­ri­ble pain of watch­ing the per­son you love the most slowly turn into a liv­ing corps was now over.

So to­day I eat pizza, although I should have saved the money. And now I think I will just sit in a dark room for a while and let the tears roll down my face.

You see the pain is just as it was on the an­niver­sary of her death. You don’t get over it, you just slowly get more used to it. The loss left a hole that will al­ways be there.

If you have loved ones, tell them you love them. Don’t just as­sume they know. You might never be able to tell them one day. It is a great com­fort to me that Mom knew I loved her and that I was there for her ev­ery day, vis­it­ing her in the care home.

So many never visit.

I think that is worse than know you are not wanted.

Any­way, time to just be alone with my thoughts awhile. just leave them there and dy­ing, to

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