In my ninth installment of Living With Cancer, I talked about the time my Father left my Mother when I was 17. My Mom had just gone back to work, I had just turned 17, and my Father had said goodbye. He asked me to move in with him but I couldn't. I would not leave my Mom . Yes she had cancer and she was a mess but she was forever my Mom.
I waited in my room for about an hour. It was getting dark outside and I was getting hungry. I walked into the living room and saw my Mother sitting on the couch. The kitchen light was the only light on but I could see the depth of her despair. Her husband of nearly twenty years had just walked out on her and she was dying of cancer.
I went over and sat on the couch. I didn't know what to say. I had no words of comfort to give. So I asked if she was hungry. She nodded yes. In about five minutes she was in the kitchen helping me cook. She didn't say a word but you could tell she was lost. We sat down at the table to eat our dinner that night. Usually we would eat at the counter but not tonight. She asked me how school was going. I told her it was okay. She ate a little bit but not much. I cleaned the dishes and looked into her room and said I was going for a ride and that I would be back in an hour or so. She was talking to her mother and you could see she had been crying. I told her I would bring her back a treat. I went to Bo's and got her some ice cream, but first I got super stoned.
When I arrived back home Mom thanked me for doing the dishes. We talked and hugged and I told her once again that it would be okay. I told her that I would be there to help her. I told her that I loved her. We went to bed and didn't sleep. I could hear her get up and go into the kitchen. I would follow.
The next morning she went to work and I went to school. I made it through Math but by second period I was lighting a joint and heading to Sand Key beach. I stayed there the rest of the day while a cold front came through and dropped some rain. I didn't care. I just didn't want to go back home. I did eventually and it was weird. Mom acted like nothing had happened the day before. We had dinner at the counter. We talked about what went on during the day. I let her do most of the talking. This day was the first day of my skipping school for the next 62. This was also my first day in hell. Which would last for about another five years. Life pretty much went downhill after this first day.