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“I had a dream about your mother,” my friend said.

I frowned when I read her message. She knows how I feel about visions and dreams.

Just as I had come to terms with everything, and decided to let it go whichever course, I was reminded that it will eventually happen.

It’s not necessarily that I will be sad, or feel burdened by responsibility. But that we all seem to think we can outrun ourselves, and I am watching someone trip upon their feet.

My mother beamed about feeling better, and working out. She convinced herself for nearly a week, but you could see the fatigue and strain on her face. The need to lay down, and rest.

The unwashed dishes, and unkempt rooms. I go behind her most days, otherwise it won’t get done.

She’ll say things like, “I won’t let this get me.” People can fight cancer, but at her age its almost impossible. Especially since she’s refused treatment. The doctors decided surgery, not chemo. She’d be getting a hysterectomy, since she is no longer at child bearing age. I think she’s afraid it’ll kill her.

My friends and family have discussed what will really happen. Untreated illnesses spread. I’m worried it can turn into sepsis, since her uterus is close to her intestines. Saying, “the tumor passed,” is so odd. You’re developing tumors, that’s not normal.

It’s a matter of time now. I’m watch her rot right in front of me. It’s torturous. And since I’m the only person she’s trusts…

I get front row tickets.

Except, that with endings come new beginnings. I know that.

There’s a storm brewing.