It just so happens to be Mother's Day.

I’ve spent the majority of the last two months in Phoenix. I arrived in NYC last week thinking I’d be back to normal for a while. When I say this, I realize that all of this is my normal. Coming back to NYC isn’t an escape, it’s just different. She will forever be on my mind. All of this is always on my mind. Every single minute.

I booked a flight yesterday and flew out this morning, because things change quickly. Symptoms appear and they indicate that what you have been preparing yourself for is arriving.

I know I will never be ready, on so many different levels, for what is coming. I accept that. I also accept uncertainty. I hope this acceptance and thoughtfulness will help me maintain clarity and bigger picture perspective throughout.

Constantly cherish your loved ones. Be easy and really understand that one day it could be too late. We all know this.

I share this photo of my mother from a few weeks ago because it moves me. One day she began stopping right in front of this mirror with an urgency, losing herself in her reflection where none of us exist. She always smiles, mumbles something to herself and seems content. There are glimmers of sadness but she seems at peace. She does not falter. I hope I can be that brave.  

It’s felt like an eternity since my last update. I get overwhelmed trying to document it all, but I do want to share with you. I’ll try to be better.

I last outlined two options: chemo or no treatment. Location and growth of tumor limited our options - no radiation or surgery.

As a family we decided, against our instinctual desires, to ultimately honor what we know to be her wishes. No more interventional treatments with negative side effects. With one last ditch effort, though, we started her on a chemo pill about a month ago. It’s not working.

I’ve heard it described as a ‘feeling of giving up’. I can completely understand that, but I don’t feel like we are giving up. We have tried everything and she has fought so hard. Knowing that our one focus is her comfort and happiness is what softens the blow. 

For my whole life, I can remember her saying that what is happening to her now is her only fear. That she never wants to live this way and that we must make the hard decision to let her go. Painful how things have panned out. 

It’s so hard to describe to you how she is. When you ask me “How is your mother doing?”, my mind goes wild trying to explain. There are no words to make you understand. Even my own mind cannot grasp what is transpiring. She looks ok, sometimes acts ok, but is not ok. How does someone go from being what they were, to this.

She tried radiation, chemo twice, a clinical trial, and alternative medicines. Maybe all of that bought her some time, and all of us the chance to show her more love. When the tumor returned in January, it came back fiercer than before as these typically do. The tumor and the seizure changed her. She has required around-the-clock care since. She slips away a little bit every day.

She eats insane amounts of food, but somehow keeps losing weight - 10 pounds in the last 10 days. She has no muscle. The fat is steroid swelling. She sleeps a lot or is lethargic. She now has regular in-home nurse visits. I hope and plead to the stars that she is not in pain. She doesn’t indicate any pain but I can’t be sure. 

Those are the big things. There are more nuanced, intangible changes that are harder to explain and harder to understand. There’s a way a person’s aura changes. You can still sense them somewhere, but they become a shell of who they once were.

I’ve spent a lot of my life being sad or angry or searching for something else. It’s a mystery how I got that way - that’s not how I was raised. But we are fluid and sometimes things happen and we are affected to the core of our being. This experience is that. This experience has put my existence into perspective. 

I’ve always known my mother to be a fearless, independent and selfless individual. We didn’t often vocalize our love, but we loved. Watching the cancer take her and how it’s affected my father has been the most difficult thing in my life. There have been the beginning of many terrible moments. But there have also been beautiful ones.

We have expressed gratitude. We spent even more time together. Conversations, laughs, loves. It never feels like enough but it's something.

There is no space for the bad in my life anymore. I won’t surround myself with negativity, insecurity or the likes. I want love the most. And there is so much to be had and to be given. 

Be soft, be gentle, be kind. It’s what Ami would want.