Monday, September 12, 2005

9/12: It's a tough day for me....

America (and I of course) has 9/11 now forever. We commemorated the fourth anniversary yesterday. Let us never forget. Never.

It's a good thing the media didn't think to start blaming the Bush Administration on 9/12/01 just after midnight for not having missiles in Manhattan ready at a moment's notice, etc.---after this fiasco of finger-pointing regarding Katrina.

I remind you----the fault goes ALL AROUND.

But that's another story once covered here.....

9/12 is a "personal 9/11"---and I mean absolutely no disrespect in this at all. September 12th, 2002 changed me personally as 9/11 changed us all.

Three years ago today, Mama's nine year battle with cancer entered its final stage. About four weeks before, the kids spent the weekend with her, and when she brought them home, I remember her distinctly saying that they didn't especially do "special things" as in a planned agenda of sorts.

She said, "We just had a good time."

When she said that, something pierced my heart to its core. I didn't realize it, but I knew then.

Mama suffered a seizure 9/12 in the afternoon. I had been in bed all day (sleep issues again), and, upon getting the call about 6pm about Mama going to the hospital, I got up and went.

My sister came, too---and, when the doctor came in with the word, I was not expecting what I heard. He was very calm, yet very direct, in a compassionate way.

He briefly explained the seizure, then said..."The cancer has gone to the brain."

Mama's best friend and my sister lose it immediately and I try to hug my sister first, but she's headed out of the room. Then, ignorant me realizes, "Get to Mama, everyone else had to leave the room because they're so upset!!"

So, I walk two steps to her bedside, took her hand and held it, listened intently to the doctor's diagnosis, report, etc., and stayed as steady as I could. Right by Mama.

Later I saw the x-ray and got a better understanding of it all.

Then, once getting a chance, I left to go outside, get emotional, and make some calls. My biggest to tell my son. He worshipped his Nana, and she was his biggest fan, through all the things he's gone through.

So, I stayed at the hospital until, like, 11pm or so, then came home, and broke the news to my wife.

Nothing's been the same since.

Absolutely nothing.

It never will be, either.

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