Posted by: Kathy | August 21, 2009

More Time

I prayed a lot after my mom was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Knowing how deadly this form of cancer was, I figured that God would be the only one who could save my mom. My prayers were often long, rambling “conversations”, and I always asked God for the same thing – more time. I knew that God could save her, but as I watched the cancer progress, and my mom get weaker, it became pretty clear that this wasn’t the plan. Still I prayed, asking for more time.

My daughter wasn’t even 2 years old when my mom was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. She was so young and I feared that she wouldn’t really remember her grandmother. I kept praying for more time, and my prayers became more frantic the weaker my mom got. Please, just a little more time, 6 months, a year maybe. Long enough that my daughter could get to an age where she would have real memories of the time she spent with her grandmother, an age where she could remember the deep love my mom had for her.

Sadly, I didn’t get that time, or more accurately, my daughter did not get that time with her grandmother. There are days when this fact fills my heart with sadness. Or something will happen, something my daughter said or did, something that my mom missed, and I feel torn apart by anguish because it just doesn’t seem fair. My mom loved her grandkids more than words can describe, and one of the biggest reasons she didn’t want to die was because she didn’t want to leave them. This was something she shared with me the last time she was in the hospital and I made her a promise that the kids would never forget her. I promised my mom that I would keep her memory alive for her grandchildren.

It breaks my heart that my daughter only knows her grandmother through pictures. She doesn’t remember when her grandmother was here with us. She only knows her grandmom as an angel. I will keep my mom’s memory alive for my children. I will never let them forget how much she loved them. My son has some wonderful memories of times he spent with his grandmother and he knows how much she loved him. I wish my daughter had just one memory of a time with her grandmother. But I will tell her stories of times they spent together and show her pictures of my mom, pictures I have of them together. I’m glad that both kids are able to spend time with my dad, and “traditions” that started when my mom was alive, like Friday night sleepovers, continue on. My daughter is always talking about seeing her grandpop, and he can also help me keep my mom’s memory alive for the kids.

I didn’t get the time I so desperately wanted for my mom, time for her to spend with her grandkids. But I hope through my memories, my stories, I can recreate the times when we were all together.

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