Mornings

THE MORNING AFTER

Before she got diagnosed the second, and final time
I asked her how she was feeling about
her post-cancer life.

At that time, I believe,
she was mostly trying to
deal with the loss of her breast, the scars it left,
and the worry that the cancer might
come back.

So in answer to my question,
she said “Okay”.
And with more consideration,
“Pretty Good, you know”.
Because my mother dealt with everything that way.
Straight-forward.
Practical.
And determinedly Optimistic.

But then she said, in answer to my question, that
the mornings were the worst.

She said that there were those moments
in the morning.
When you’re just waking up
from that sleepy haze.
The sun might be coming in.
The birds might be singing.

And you’re still just…feeling.
You haven’t started thinking yet.

And then it comes over you.

The reality.
The knowledge.
The understanding that things have changed
and are different now
and will never be the same.

Mornings were the worst.

Mornings were the worst.
But then she’d have her coffee
and go upstairs
and nudge the cat
and have some breakfast.
And have a Pretty Good day.

So I woke up this morning
in a sleepy haze
in my mother’s house
for the first time without my mother.

The sun was coming in the window
on the honey coloured beams
and the birds were singing outside.

And I was just…feeling.
I hadn’t started thinking yet.

And then it came over me.
The reality.
The knowledge.
The understanding that things have changed
and are different now
and will never be the same.

And I know what she meant now
that mornings were the worst.

This morning was the worst.

But then I went downstairs
and nudged the cat
and had some coffee
and then some breakfast.
I will try to have a Pretty Good day.

-Leah Costello