The Conversation

I forget the day. It was a few weeks back. I was alone with my mother and she could still speak at short lengths... "Make sure you tell her what you need to tell her. Make sure." This sentence had been ringing in my ears for weeks...ever since a friend of mine told me.

I thought in the course of my life I had said everything but who has said everything?

She was doing okay at the moment. No nausea or vomiting. She was beyond exhaustion but still wanted to see my sister and me as much as she could...

I knelt by the side of her bed and took her hand.
"I want to tell you something."
"Uh-oh," she said softly.
"No, no," I said. "It's a good thing."
"Oh, okay," came the low throaty whisper.
"I want to tell you how big this is for everybody. This is so huge. So many people are so deeply affected. You have no idea. It's truly, truly unbelievable. It's incredible."
She cried.
"But why?"
"Because you took the time to care about people. To love them."
She closed her eyes and tears ran down her face.
"I'm not finished," I said.
"I want to tell you that your belief in me was so, so huge.
I carried that belief with me every single day, every minute, every hour.
It never left me. It changed everything. You can't believe how big that was."
I was crying now.
She lay her head back and cried and cried.
"Isn't it wonderful we can be here and say this to each other," she finally said through her tears.
"I know, I know," I said through mine.
"I always knew you could do whatever you wanted to do."
Her shoulders sagged in relief as if the weight of an entire world of worry had suddenly been lifted away.
"Oh my god, you've made me the happiest woman on earth."