What if Carmen had done her CT scan in December/ January instead of February? What if she had had surgery then instead of doing a trial chemo treatment? What if she had done these things and was still alive because of it? (then I would not be here in her home town saying good bye to her again)
I hate these what ifs. I hate that they spin around in my head at these times, when there is nothing left that I can do about it. I guess I feel partially responsible for everything that happened. What if I hadn't been so worried about traveling around the world this past winter, that I had been able to help convince my mother to go do her CT scan earlier? What if I had been around when she made the decision to start the trial chemo treatment? What if I hadn't spent that last few months of my mother's life thousands of miles away from her? What if I had spent more time with her all these years? What if I hadn't taken her for granted? What if we hadn't assumed that it was the same old story-- tumors, trial chemo, surgery, recovery? What if this hadn't happened as fast as it did?
I know these are silly questions, and there is no use for them, but I can not help but feel this way. I wish there had been something I could have done. Something to have saved her, something to change the past and her death, to take it all back and have her here again. When we found out about her metastasis, I know these what-ifs ran through my mother's head, and I tried to encourage her to look positively towards the future, since there is nothing we could do about the past. Saying those words to her then was seemingly easy, but now, trying to look positively towards the future seems nearly impossible, probably as impossible as it did for my mother when she received the bad news.
My future is still bright, I still have great hopes and aspirations to achieve my dreams and live up to my mother's claims of being her "eSTAR", but its not the same without her to being here to see it all happen--well that's not true, because I know she will always be around, but at least without being able to see her big proud smile or hear her words of encouragement (yjoou cahn doo iht!) along the way. I always expected her to be around for all the important moments in my life, and it's hard to believe that she won't. It's hard without her around, without her wisdom, support or love. My mother loved me more than I will ever know, and I just wish I could have loved her back more.
It's hard to not dwell on the past, the what-ifs and missed opportunities. It's hard not to still feel sad about this all, when it is all still so fresh and raw. I try to remember all the goods times that we had, but at the same time it makes me sad that there aren't any more to come. When does the past stop being so painfully sad and the present/future so much brighter and filled with wonderful memories of my mother's love? Soon I hope, though not soon enough.
Tomorrow is Carmen's ceremony here in Spain with all of my family--I have a feeling this is going to be a lot harder than last time.
I hate these what ifs. I hate that they spin around in my head at these times, when there is nothing left that I can do about it. I guess I feel partially responsible for everything that happened. What if I hadn't been so worried about traveling around the world this past winter, that I had been able to help convince my mother to go do her CT scan earlier? What if I had been around when she made the decision to start the trial chemo treatment? What if I hadn't spent that last few months of my mother's life thousands of miles away from her? What if I had spent more time with her all these years? What if I hadn't taken her for granted? What if we hadn't assumed that it was the same old story-- tumors, trial chemo, surgery, recovery? What if this hadn't happened as fast as it did?
I know these are silly questions, and there is no use for them, but I can not help but feel this way. I wish there had been something I could have done. Something to have saved her, something to change the past and her death, to take it all back and have her here again. When we found out about her metastasis, I know these what-ifs ran through my mother's head, and I tried to encourage her to look positively towards the future, since there is nothing we could do about the past. Saying those words to her then was seemingly easy, but now, trying to look positively towards the future seems nearly impossible, probably as impossible as it did for my mother when she received the bad news.
My future is still bright, I still have great hopes and aspirations to achieve my dreams and live up to my mother's claims of being her "eSTAR", but its not the same without her to being here to see it all happen--well that's not true, because I know she will always be around, but at least without being able to see her big proud smile or hear her words of encouragement (yjoou cahn doo iht!) along the way. I always expected her to be around for all the important moments in my life, and it's hard to believe that she won't. It's hard without her around, without her wisdom, support or love. My mother loved me more than I will ever know, and I just wish I could have loved her back more.
It's hard to not dwell on the past, the what-ifs and missed opportunities. It's hard not to still feel sad about this all, when it is all still so fresh and raw. I try to remember all the goods times that we had, but at the same time it makes me sad that there aren't any more to come. When does the past stop being so painfully sad and the present/future so much brighter and filled with wonderful memories of my mother's love? Soon I hope, though not soon enough.
Tomorrow is Carmen's ceremony here in Spain with all of my family--I have a feeling this is going to be a lot harder than last time.
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