I went along with Mom and Dad for her visit to the oncologist last Thursday. He ran Mom's bloodwork, checked her over thoroughly, and said "You're doing great -- I'll see you in six months." As soon as he said it, she was off the examining table and headed for the door – Mom hates going to the doctor.
As I was standing in church yesterday morning, with Mom holding onto my arm (first time since August), I couldn't stop thinking of a lifelong friend who lost her mom last week, what she has been through, and how fortunate I am to still have mine. I remember feeling the same way when two other lifelong friends went through this recently, but Mom was in Arizona each time so I didn't have an immediate opportunity to do what they couldn't anymore. Yesterday I did, and I think it was the touch of her hand on my arm that brought it home for me -- the tears started flowing and I felt so blessed, yet so guilty at the same time. The theater was dark, so Mom didn't notice -- but when we sat down I leaned over and told her how much I had missed our Sunday mornings together.
I have everything I need for Christmas this year -- nothing else will compare.