Barnes and (k)Noble Day

I started to write about my cousin visiting my mom yesterday and how it uplifted Mom's spirits,  and then my lap top disconnected from the page and I lost it.  So rather than go back wards, I want to stay on a forward kiel in order to make sense of all these emotions later.
To state my mom and I are close is an understatement.  Our journey has been far and wide, and included in this journey is both our getting sober before we actually became human with each other...she earlier than me...but in my own fog, I noticed I was relating to a different person.  Mom now has 25 plus years under her belt, and I am going on 14 this August....and such is life...our life.
Now in her journey in leaving this world, I find my self flooded with the most fond memories of us together in life,  that they stop my heart and fill my face with tears, so much so I feel like the world is caving in on me and my guarded inner child.  
I lost my dad when I was 27, now at 47 I am feeling the surrender  of my mom to Lung Cancer is a confirmation to me my child is an adult  - - and yet, the smell of talc is thick in my consciousness, and the sounds of my mother's soothing voice in her own suffering is as magical as if I were catapulted back to my five year birthday when I wore a gold paper crown, and received that cake, candles a blaze like any princess would...with a smile a mile wide.  
We waited most of the morning and early afternoon for the delivery of the astronomically expensive chemo pills - - as soon as that delivery man was down the path and back in his car, my mom wanted to gather her scarf and hat and head off to Barnes and Noble where the book she ordered was waiting for her.  Soon swiftness turned into an amble or a slow saunter out to the car.  Mom moving very sloth like and when I would caress her arm, I felt as if I were grasping a steel pole under a soft cotton sleeve.  It feels as if her bones are an inch in circumference, and as brittle as a tangled twig.  I got her into the car today and I couldn't help but reflect to three weeks ago when she was driving her own car sporting a full head of hair and maybe experiencing a little scratchy throat that's all.  Three flipping weeks ago she was Mary, today she is  "mary".
Interestingly enough, in her mind she thinks she can predict her ill feeling, and know it as if it is simply the back of her hand.  When we arrived at Barnes and Noble, she said,
" let me just pop in there and pop out, you can stay in the car, it will only take a second..."  
I about died inside.  I reminded her that it is impossible for her to walk fast, or for her to know if the three weeks of this chemo could make her pass out,  or fall down in the extreme heat of Arizona...so I got her in there, and we did get her book and she decided she wanted to hit the Starbucks for a Frappuccino.  Half way into a normal activity, she had a spell - a sinking spell - as she called it, and I had visions of being trapped with mom in this public place - not able to physically handle it if she felt more ill ...I had visions of needing help out to our car and these thoughts all started to swim in my mind like some frantic drowning child.  
I stalled my panic, gathered our gear, and held that little twig of an arm and strolled out with her whispering (though she perceives herself as if she were speaking at full volume not as if she were drunk or disoriented, which is exactly how she sounded.  I know she has no awareness of how she sounds...in her slowness, in her diminutive speech pattern; her breathlessness is not even perceptible to her...but it resonates with me as if she is on a police bullhorn and that scares me.  Her weakness scares me.  This woman who could hold up the world and spin it on her pinky is melting before my eyes.
We got home, and I got her dinner.  I carried it up on a yellow tray from 1963 -  a tray we all used as kids which somehow survived all these years - I carried it to her bedroom, where I presented her with half of last nights dinner - - I then returned down stairs to take my special needs 50 year old brother to his favorite Friday night restaurant for his weekly hot dog and milk shake.  We drove with his country music radio station on high volume- while I hid my eyes behind my silver reflective Ray Ban sun glasses ; tears rolled down my cheeks as the road in front of me became flooded with memories as if a movie of our lives was being played in my head all the way to the diner.  The visions are always filled with greatness, and are full of that foreverness one feels as a family...and that is what kills the very flower that is my soul.  Life is so bittersweet. Death is such an awaking.  Her journey is my journey.