It's Over

I close my eyes and count to ten. You can do this! Oh my gosh, no I can't , no I can't , NO I CAN NOT DO THIS!! I have to, no one else will. Why am I talking to myself? I'm crazy, that's why. That's the most likely answer--hell, that is the answer. Who am I kidding? Take a deep breath and try counting, once more, to ten.

One, two, three, lord help me, four, five, six, how can I do this, seven, eight, nine and ten. Whew, just walk forward, walk straight into that room and look at the different cold, hard boxes and pick one. Does it really matter what color or flower or print is on there? After tomorrow, it'll never be seen again. It matters, it really does. This cold box will hold the body that has taken care of you for 33 years. Gave birth to you, raised you, nurtured you, taught you, cared for oh no not again. Stop crying, it does not solve or help anything.

You can never prepare yourself for this, regardless of the situation, regardless of the fact that you're a nurse and have been for ten years. You know cancer, you have smelled cancer, you have seen cancer. You know cancer is not prejudiced, cancer is ugly and mean. You know this! It doesn't help, it doesn't make things easier.

You found this six years ago, a small, ugly brown, irregular spot on her arm. You made her go see a doctor. He told you both It was not curable, It has a life-span of five years. She said no more doctors, she said you're not to tell anyone. Not your father, not anyone, not if you want to continue with the relationship we have. This is one of the only relationship that I care about, I can't foresake that bond. I told my brother, he acts as if he never knew.

Okay, so it's the light purple one with flowers. It'll match her outfit. Does that matter? Does anything matter?

It's over, it's finished. The words were said, the songs were sung, the hugs were given, the plants and flowers distributed. It's over, its finished. It's all a blur.

It's not over, it can't be, no no no. I can't say goodbye; you have to. You have to stop talking to yourself!

It can't be over, I want more than memories. I want to be able to call you, see you, feel you and hear you. It can't be over. I try and rationalize, I know you were in pain, even though you always denied it.

I know you are no longer in pain, I know you are no longer embarrassed by the cancer smell or the huge tumor on your arm. I know this, I rationalize this over and over.

I'm selfish, oh my gosh, I'm so selfish. You gave unselfishly to me for 33 years and I can't even repay you for that. I'm trying, I really am. It's not like I really have a choice, you are gone. It's over.