My Mama

Today was the day of the walk for Autism Research my mother and I usually attend with Billy.  Last year was a beautiful, sun drenched day.  My mom looked strong and proud as she put on her Team Billy T shirt and posed for a few photos with our tiny team.

What a difference a year makes.  I am grateful for this year I've had with her.  I'm grateful for every day.  I am thankful for today, for yesterday, for the day before.  My heart is full and heavy at the same time.

Yesterday, at the hospital, I sat in the only chair in my mom's tiny room.  Eliza found her way onto my lap for a snuggle and soon after, Elena came up attempting to pull Eliza off my lap.  As the girls fought over who got to sit in Mama's lap, my own mother, clearly disoriented, uncomfortable and in pain, said "Hey girls, I have an idea.  When you go home tonight, go into the playroom and start picking up toys. And whoever picks up the most toys gets to sit on Mama's lap."

As Eliza got dramatic, saying "mama doesn't love me, she loves Elena better than me," my mom corrected firmly, telling Eliza that I feed her, I wash her clothes, I take her to school, I take her to dance class so "How can you say she doesn't love you."

My mama, my champion, my love.

I wrote something nice for her on Facebook, something everyone could see but now I can't remember it.  My mother fought for her autistic son and talked her way into a career as a reporter in a time when women didn't work so much by walking into buildings and saying "I want to work."  She is my hero, my best friend and one of the great loves of my life.

I think I said it better on facebook but you get my gist.  I love my mama, and she loves me.  I love my mama and she loves me.

I love my mama and she's sick and leaving me.