Allowing grief to overtake me so that it doesn't overtake me.

It will be what it will be.

“She’s wasting”, he said.

My breath caught in my throat when I heard those words come out of his mouth. I stayed silent, staring straight ahead.

“Wasting away,” he added. I could tell he was needing a response from me. Checking in, I suppose.

“Yep, I get what you mean,” I replied. I gave him a smile so he wouldn’t press me further. The truth is I didn’t need him to add that second part - I knew what he meant and I didn’t like it. It jolted me into a place I didn’t want to go. The future. But I pretended I didn’t mind because I knew he meant nothing bad. I knew I would make him feel bad if I got sad. Then he’d say sorry and I’d say it’s ok. And the moment would become about me making him feel better. I decided in that moment it wasn’t worth the conversation - honestly, I didn’t have the energy. Not today.

I feel like my life has turned into the constant appeasing of absolutely everyone around me for the purpose of avoiding any conversations with any amount of depth. I’m saving those for my Mum. Will these be my last conversations with my Mum? I can’t bear the thought.

I think about the phrase, Wasting away, and I can recall my Mum saying it a time or two. Often after she’d say it the person would die and I just can’t bear to face that reality. Not now. I can’t seem to remember the specific person she said it about now, though. Not that it really matters.

I had never thought about it being said about her, though. Until now. She’s the one wasting away now.

I think back on the moments. The memories.

I find myself wondering about the past a lot these days. Who was my Mum? Where has she been? What don’t I know about her yet? I suddenly have a million unanswered questions. Too many questions to put into words in such a short amount of time.

There’s so much I want to say and it feels like there’s not enough time. How much time is there? I want to know so badly.

I rush to see her and I’m scared of all the things that might spew out of my mouth when I get to her hospital bed. I feel uncontrollable, like I might break, shatter, splinter all over the floor at any moment.

But then I arrive.

I’m at her side.

Peace.

Stillness.

It washes over me.

There’s no need for words right now.

There is perfect peace.

You are actually home to me.

Where my life on this earth started. Where it all began.

Now I know this, it will be what it will be.