Mom

When the pain of illness takes over, it feels as though the only word I can even remember is “mom.”

I cry it, I scream it, I whimper it.

“Mom. MOM! Mom.”

And yet, when my demons are beating me bloody and leaving me in a pool of my own tears and regrets, it’s the hardest word to say.

I imagine you walking into the room, seeing me curled in on myself, and all you have to do to ease my troubles is hold me. Your knowing fingers in my hair, your gentle kiss on my forehead, and your whispered promise of “tsavet tanem” is all the strength I need to defeat them. To defeat all of them.

It’s a shame I’ll never find the courage to ask for your help when I need it most.

mom