XIII

Are you really the same as you were?
Can anyone ever be?
I was almost expecting, hoping, that you wouldn't change
I wanted you to be "cancer free",
Whatever that means

XII

We face good problems now, like you talking too much. It's hard to imagine six months ago, I was praying for your voice. 

XI

I love you but it's hard
To break down walls
To adjust to it all
Can you try to understand me, though?
Can you try to feel my heart?

X

Should I be happy,
Should I get my hopes up now?
I'm trying to smile,
Not let this get me down
But I'm not sure if I can let myself breathe
I've forgotten that our oxygen
Comes from the trees

IX

I can't think of anything to say when I see you, but yesterday I felt hopeful. I'm hoping you do too.

I know you look at the birds and wish you could fly, and I know you watch us walk out the door and wonder if you ever will. I can only imagine the things that must go through your head on a daily basis, only because thinking is all you have time for. 

But you are doing better, physically at least. 

VIII

You're more and more stranger than I've seen before
I know you're my mom but when I look in your eyes,
"Vacant and stained",
All I see is you're sick, and I'm counting the days
Praying they'll be one where you're feeling fine
You're suffering, I'm watching your soul waste away
It's crazy how you're so incompetent, so loopy,
Yet you still think you know it all, that hasn't changed
And you always say you love me
But it's hard to spend time with you and not contemplate death
Because you're hardly able to contemplate
And you barely know me like I barely know you
I'm missing my mom, you're already gone
Hurry, wake up before one of us dies
Because even my birthday comes as a surprise
Even my father is turning away to cry
Every single day one part of us dies
With the cells in your brain we don't know how to tame
And I'm running from you because I can't take the pain

VII

You came home today. I imagined it would feel a little bit better, but you're sicker than I've ever seen you in my life. Your face is vacant and your eyes have the same sort of tired life that you see in a nursing home. 

Dad told me that the doctors gave him a choice, take you home or take you to a nursing home. You're in so much pain and they couldn't do any more for you. 

I hear you crying in the back room. It's not the kind of crying I used to hear-- competent and scared, riddled with prayers and strangled optimism. Tonight you cry from raw pain. 

But the one thing we have in common is we are all so tired, aren't we?

VI

I miss talking to you. 

V

Maybe you'll come home today

Depends on what the doctors say--

IV

Me and dad cried together today. He came home the other day, he told me, and no one was here but him. "It was lonely, I see her everywhere." 

You have touched every inch of this house, and without you it's no different than a cave, really. "She leaves a big void," dad said, and he was right. 

III

You haven't really looked sick before, you didn't give off the cancer vibe. Today however, I walk in and you look older, smaller. The bed swallows your frail limbs and you barely smile and close your eyes again. You're mumbling nonsense, I can barely catch your words. 

"I love you."

"You too."

"What time is it?"

"Two o' clock."

You nod, and I fight back tears. 

II

I laid in your bed with
Uncontrollable tears
Sensing a loss in my eyes
As I sniffled for life

I was supposed to turn over
And see your face
You should have hugged me
And whispered the way it would be

It would happen because you're my mom
And there's a certain comfort in the way you say things
And there's a certain void in my life when you're missing

I

Here's my heart
From me to you
We all need something
To hold onto

I'm hoping someday
You'll be well enough
And I can say
I wrote you a letter
Years ago
I'd like you to read it
Although you already know
Everything I said
We'll smile remembering
We don't wish to go back
But until then I must write
For the closure I lack
I must write while you're gone
So you can come back