Definitely not like Elvis!

It’s like a daily joke between me and the kids to let them come and tug on my hair to see if my hair is still attached to my scalp! Well, let’s just say today was different. The boys came to my room and while we were talking I ran my fingers through my hair and when I pulled it out a big tuft came out in my hand.

Within seconds our daily joke stopped being funny anymore. I smiled and tried to crack an awkward joke “It has begun, guys!” but I think I couldn’t hide the surprise on my face. David said astonished “I really thought it wouldn’t happen.” Darian looked at both of us nervously not knowing what to do or say. “Yeah, me too” I said trying to sound indifferent.

We all climbed back on my bed, a little more somber, and looked at the catalog for wigs, hats and scarves once again. I could tell that this time they both felt the urgency of choosing a good one for me. They marked their favorite ones and commented on the ones that they thought would make me look “old”. We agreed that we would all initial the ones we liked and buy the ones that got the most approval.

A few minutes later they left the room to move on to their next game and I was left on the bed feeling exhausted. The familiar shortness of breath that seems to have been residing in my lungs lately felt worse than ever. Deep breaths…David came back not too long after, he laid down right next me and said “It’s going to be OK mom.” While touching my hair gently.

I can sense the change around me. My oldest son has started talking softer to me; he even hugs and kisses me now. My youngest has been sneaking in my room with his book offering to read to me. He usually wants me to read to him but not too long ago I told him that it calms me to listen to him read. Now that I think about it, my little girl had nightmares about me going away this morning. I wonder why.

I can’t help thinking about things that I would like to be remembered for.
I’d like to leave behind a mark for my children to look back to, something that would inspire them to think of me. At the same time I dread the thought of leaving things unfinished.

I think about that box in the basement, full of letters and journals I’ve kept over the years. Do I want these left behind? I had Brian promise me that he would keep the letters, and the endless lists I made of the kids’ first words and funny things they said from time to time, but definitely burn the journals. It’s only more painful memories and who needs that?

I talk about last wishes. I don’t have any houses or land to leave behind, so it comes down to personal effects. Brian keeps silent notes in his head, I know it must not be easy for him to hear this, but he’s patient, he understands that those are things I need to say.
We talk about what he would do after. Would he get married again? I tell him he needs a mother for those kids, he answers he loves me. I promise to look after him and the kids, and he says he'll come and find me, so we can be together again.

OK, I know this goes too far. I really don’t feel that depressed. I’m actually quite optimistic about the whole thing. I’ll do what needs to be done and I’ll fight as much as I can, but just like playing any other game, you need to cover all your bases.
I really doubt that I’ll die of breast cancer or that it would happen anytime soon. I’ll probably die of a broken hip in my 90’s or something.

There’s only one thing I’m sure of. I would not want to die like Elvis! I’d take cancer any day!
;-)