Would you want to know?

"There was a survey once. 

A thousand people were asked, if they could know in advance... 

...would they want to know the exact day of their death. 

Ninety-six percent of them said no. 

I always kind of leaned toward the other 4 percent. 

I thought it would be liberating... 

...knowing how much time you had left to work with."

            - Carter Chambers, The Bucket List

We don't know the exact date that my mom will pass away, but we do know that she is slowly being taken from us.  It could be a year...it could be 10 years.  All things considered, she is doing remarkably well.  She still drives, she teaches art camps at the recreation center, and she offers private art classes out of her home.  She still has that magic sparkle with children.  When she visits my classroom, the kids light up when they see her, and she lights up too.  Her natural ability to connect, communicate, and teach  children is a gift few people instinctively have.  When she taught her room may have been a little louder, a little less controlled, but it was a class of fully engaged, attentive, happy kids.  I wish more teachers could teach the way mom did.  She was a one-of-a-kind teacher.

I had my dress fitting the other night.  I was already a little agitated (looking in the mirror for over four hours can do that to a self-conscious bride), but I could feel some uneasiness between the two of us.  I could tell that my mom was different.  Not mean, not pushy, just on edge.  After the fitting, I pushed her to share with me...

"What's on your mind, mom?"  I asked. 

"I woke up this morning to a huge crash," she said.  "I jumped up out of the bed, and screamed...it sounds like bookshelf fell over and the books were crashing to the floor."  "Has that been happening to you a lot more lately?"  I pushed. "What do you mean?..."  

She couldn't remember that she has been telling me about these "crashes" for over six months.  They usually happen in the early morning, and it is always a loud, shaking, crash or boom.  She startles herself awake, and then gets up and walks around the house making sure that everything is in the correct place...and it always is. 

This last time, she called me in the evening to tell me that she checked online for the correlation between these loud crashes and strokes.  She could not find any evidence connecting them together, and that seemed to take away some of her fears.  I feel that there must be some kind of correlation between the two, but there is just not enough documentation or evidence to prove anything.  I keep that to myself, though. 

Tom and I went to dinner that night, and I was a wreck - just sobbing.  Watching my mom struggle - physically, emotionally, and even cognitively (even though she is still very bright) is frightening.  My biggest struggle is reacting to her struggles and fears appropriately. I know that she needs me to sympathize with her, listen, and comfort her fears.  But in situations like that, I feel that I need to remain strong - for both of us.  And so, I come across as cold.  It is so hard because all I want to do is cry and be vulnerable, but that is just not an option.  I just want to hug her and let her know that I will support her no matter what God has in store.

So the question is this:  Would you want to know when you were going to die?

In our situation, we don't know, but we do know that her body is slowly being taken from her - but no one is able to tell us what will actually happen.  That may be the worst situation of all...