|My Mama, Maybelle, and me. Or Nonni, Maybelle, |
and the other Mama, the names from Maybelle.
We deal with Maybelle in almost exactly the way I do. It's not that much of a surprise, I guess, but it's awfully comfortable when we behave the same ways. We're not clean at all. We have similar emotions and responses. These days my hair is like hers: she’s chosen short hair, and mine is just what I have, but we look more and more alike.
And my Mama and I are taking on this brain tumor in similar ways. This isn’t what I would have thought: she’s the kind of religious person who believes that everything is God, and that everything will come to the best place. I, on the other hand, am trying to breathe. I’m trying to imagine myself at my imaginary table with many, many feelings, all of which are there. But we're able to respect each other. Neither of us is trying to make the other right.
Right now, people online are righting hundreds and hundreds of comments and checks on my mother and my Facebook. My Mama wrote an incredibly happy statement when we were at Duke and were told that my tumor has stopped, and that it’s probably shrinking a bit. It’s great news. And when I'm feeling funky about this, Mama is there--totally there.