Seven days

I crouched next to mum's chair and we chatted. The carer joked that it's funny, and sweet, to see a grown boy be so "clingy" and stick around his mother like I do. I think nothing of it. I am the way I am toward my mother. Around her, I behave the way I feel is appropriate and comfortable. Even if it's crouching next to her like a little kid, it doesn't feel awkward of strange. For how many more nights, how many more hours will I be able to be so intimate and close to her? How many more moments can I still reach out and touch her hand, feel the warmth of her body?

No regrets. Life is already too short and often too unpredictable to live with any measure of regret. This sadness I feel inside, which grows ever heavier with each passing day closer to my day of departure, it is not regret. It is a pain from having to leave mum's side at a time when her health condition is still fragile. This time is not like other times before, when I would come back and stay with her until the side-effects of her treatments subside. This time there are no side-effects, just a state of gradual decline of her physical health, and a gradual erosion of her spirits... How painful, how difficult it will be to leave her. And I can't imagine how it will be if I have to leave her and say goodbye if she were still at the hospital. It would be so traumatic, so painful, like never before...

Mum stroked my hair and patted my head. "You have been so good to me... I'm sorry to be moody and to shout at you at times..."

"It doesn't matter. None of it matters..." Tears were wallowing in my eyes. Not because it feels great to know I was wronged and that mum apologised, but because I know a lot of what mum has been feeling, a lot of her anger and moodiness is not because she wants to be like this. A lot of her emotions come from the fact that she's been confined to the same room for so long, and she is not free to come and go like I am. She is not free to walk around, to eat whatever she wants. She is not free from pain, from suffering, from the torments of her physical body and the anguish and frustrations she may feel in her mind...

I wish I could do more, much more than just sit by her side and hold her hand, much more than just massage her sore back and sore arms... But there is only so much I can do, and only so little time I have left to do them.