I was lying in bed, enjoying me some Full House, courtesy of Nick@Nite. Sure, the picture isn't as high quality as my DVDs (which I do own), but in a pinch, the cable version will do.
The music started, and I felt like I was going to lose it. I kept my cool, naturally, because I would hate for someone to think that Full House evokes an emotion other than pure elation. But I could hear your giggle when I would remind you that Full House is my comfort food. I could feel you rubbing my back and reassuring me that you were well aware of that fact, and that you loved that about me.
I miss the way you knew me. All those little things about me, and all the reasons that I am who I am. I lost this aspect of you months before your body stopped fighting. I knew it was gone the day I asked you if you remembered where I worked, and you looked up at me, your eyes filled with half confusion and half annoyance, because OBVIOUSLY you knew I was a waitress. (Please note, I have never been a waitress.)
That moment broke me.
For the first time in those initial few weeks after your hospital visit, fear and hope were not the most prominent emotion I was feeling. It was sadness. Sadness because in just a few short weeks, you had become a stranger. Sadness because it was real, and it was going to hurt. Sadness because less than 5 days before, you had gone from the most inspirational woman on earth, dancing around the deck in a black and gold Steelers wig hours after being told that you had stage IV cancer. Things changed in the blink of an eye, and I knew that was just the beginning. I knew you would keep fading, and I wondered if some day you might look at me and have no recollection of who I was, let alone all the little quirks about me.
It's strange how much you just take things for granted when you don't expect to ever not have them. It surprises me how many times I think of you and your quirks throughout the day. My mind wasn't always paying attention to those pieces of you as they were exposing themselves, but it turns out my heart always was.
I am so thankful the day when you wouldn't remember who I was never came. Until your very last breath, you knew that I am your girl, and you knew how much you loved me. You may not have remembered my comfort food, or where I worked, but you remembered the most important part, and for that, I will always be grateful.
