“Cause love’s such an old-fashioned word And love dares you to care for The people on the edge of the night And love dares you to change our way of Caring about ourselves This is our last dance This is our last dance This is ourselves Under pressure.”
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Joined 1 year ago
Cake day: January 31st, 2025
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Childfree and share a house with my equally introverted partner. Work and commute are 45 hours of my week (excluding holidays and PTO etc.), other than that, the rest of my time is me time. I love spending hours on my own, puttering through my endless hobbies and interests. I have a few close friends, most are long distance, and I’m very grateful for them and the joy they bring to my life. Also very grateful that they respect my homebody nature. I think I’m very lucky, I know a lot of folks who feel they don’t get the time and space they need.


My mom died 5 months ago from MBC at 62. I was fortunate enough to be with her for the last few days. My husband and I drove overnight to get there, my brother and his partner did the same. My father and my aunt and us all took turns sitting with her, caring for her, doing everything we could to surround her with comfort and love.
The night she passed, we were all in the living room, she was in a hospital bed at this point, and we were all seated around her, watching a movie. She had been unconscious for days at that point but, for some reason, I had this feeling that she was looking at me. Logically, I know she wasn’t and that she was unconscious etc. But it still felt that way and I looked over at her and no one else was looking, they were all glued to the screen, I’m struggling to explain this but it felt like for a moment, everything stopped and her and I were alone in the room.
I blew her a kiss and waved goodbye, it was such a tender moment and somehow felt so intimate despite everyone being there. No one else noticed, it was just her and I for that brief moment. We were close and loved each other a lot, imperfectly at times, but a lot. I’m so grateful for that memory.
She took her last breath about 30 minutes later. We surrounded her bedside, held her hands and feet, I stroked her face and whispered to her as she slipped away. Yet, it was that brief, time-frozen moment when it felt like we said goodbye to each other that really wrecks me and comforts me at the same time. I miss her a lot. Fuck cancer.