Say it

As writers, we pull emotions into our writing from experiences - our own and by placing ourselves into the hearts and minds of others, sometimes strangers and sometimes people who never existed at all. Emotion on the page transforms a story from a succession of words to reality in the writer's mind and therefore in the reader's mind. We imagine what it must be like to experience tragedy or comedy; we walk into a different world and picture the sights and sounds; we project ourselves into the future or the past or perhaps just the next town over. But mainly, we envelop ourselves in the emotions of characters we've created, a strange mix of people we know and people we imagine.

I've had plenty of emotional experiences to pull from lately.

Last week, my husband and kids and I traveled to Mexico. My mom wanted to see them one last time. She's nearing the end of her battle with breast cancer. It's hard to imagine that my mom, so real in front of me, so THERE, could possibly not be here in the near future. Cancer isn't a part of who she is; it's an ailment that has pushed its way into her life and invaded her body. An unwelcome guest. An intruder. It's not who she is and it doesn't define her. I want it to go away and leave her alone. But it won't. It's an alien using her body as a host and eventually it will win.

It may take her body, but it won't take my mom away from me, not in the real sense. She will always be a part of my life. All the experiences we've shared, the good and the bad, all that's formed our relationship, will forever be part of me. I am the youngest of her 4 children, and I see her in each of us. What's strong and true in Mom is evident in the way her children are facing the remaining time with her, in how we are banding together and reinforcing our bonds, in how we can laugh and feel the sorrow and the joy of this time.

My siblings and I live near each other in the Seattle area while Mom lives far away in Mexico, a distance that has been difficult for all of us. The demands of job and family here at home add further difficulties. But when I'm down there, it all melts away. I shuck the guilt and the responsibilities slowly, day by day, until all that remains is me and Mom and a peace that makes words unnecessary, but I speak them anyway. Just to let her know one more time.