People often say to me so what’s next?
Well to put it bluntly there is no next, there is simply surviving.
This can be said for not only my mum but for me too.
I think the subject of finality always makes people uncomfortable, nobody wants to talk about the end – especially when the person is still alive.
I don’t have any answers and neither do the doctors, it is just the way it is and it’s the way it always will be.
But that doesn’t mean I’ve completely banished all hope.
There is going to come a point where my mum won’t want to carry on with chemotherapy anymore…or there might not be?
She might say ‘fuck you cancer’ right to the very end. It’s up to her and no one else.
I can’t change what is happening and neither can mum. So if I can’t change mum’s future then why let her present be miserable?
As mum battles on I’m starting to try and not take conversations about finality so negatively.
Reaction is key in these situations and if your loved one is comfortable discussing this with you then that’s a good thing.
This was the case on a crisp Saturday afternoon.
Chips and a sea view with mum meant she was surrounded by happiness, love and familiarity.
Nothing could be heard but the wind and the rustle of our chip paper but mum suddenly pointed and said “I want to be scattered on little eye” (the island next to Hilbre Island in West Kirby).
She was so matter of fact that I didn’t have time to react.
When you’re in such a beautiful place it’s easy to forget the reality that is in front of you.
So, I joked about how the conversation had abruptly took on a morbid turn, we laughed and she said “well it’s so my ashes can blow back in your face like my dad’s did with us three girls.”
Her sense of humour made it easier and the experience changed into joyful one.
It made me feel comfortable with mum’s wishes, and it suddenly dawned on me that she had accepted what is and would be.
There was a moment of calmness as we looked out towards the sea.
It was then I knew mum was going to be okay. She was here with me, enjoying the moment.
When she is no longer here in the present it is then I’ll look to the sea.