THURSDAY

Today the kids and I went back to T & J's because Pey had left her Christmas gift from them at their house. That, and I had gifts for them that I needed to deliver because they're leaving town in a few days and I may not see them again before Christmas. That, and I just enjoy spending time with them because I haven't always had - nor will I always have - that opportunity.

This was brought home to me this morning while we were driving to their house. Sara MacLachlan's song "Angel" came on the radio, and I just about lost it. That song was released the year my mom died, and it always makes me think about her. Particularly the part where it says, "You're in the arms of the angel...may you find some comfort here."

That was hard to type.

I know I've complained about my mother in the past, and goodness knows we didn't always get along. But she was my mom, and despite the fact that we didn't always see eye to eye (who does, really?), I loved her very much. I know she suffered at the end - the excruciating headache, the loss of the ability to see and understand, the knowledge that you can no longer control yourself, the eventual rupture of the aneurysm in her brain that relieved her pain - and took her life. That makes me ache for her. There's nothing like seeing someone you love lying on a hospital bed, unresponsive and vulnerable, to make you realize how much they mean to you. How silly your spats were. How ridiculous it was that you argued with and hung up on her during your very last phone call.

That...is hard to live with.

Then, as the beginning strains of "Angel" came through the speakers, I drove past a white Chevy Impala. That is the same kind of car Tnk was driving the night the drunk hit her. It's the same car that slammed her up against the truck she'd pulled over. It's the same car that very nearly took her life.

All those memories came rushing back - the 2:00 a.m. phone call that told us she'd been LifeFlighted to the hospital. How hurt she was. How scared we were, and how scared she was. How vulnerable and small she looked in that hospital bed. How close - thisclose, thisdamnedclose - we came to losing her. I felt the tears flowing freely down my face, and I prayed at the same time that the kids wouldn't notice mommy crying.

As I am, again, now.