Day 8

I have been a talky person. My great-grandma infamously said, “Once that child starts talking she’ll never stop.” In this time of terrible grief, I’m speechless.

The worst bereavement text message I received was from a friend of three years. It read, “Wow. That’s [my child’s malignant, fatal brain tumor] so scary! Well, at least she didn’t suffer! Please let me know if there is anything you need. Let me know when you’re back at work and feeling up for it and let’s have lunch!”

According to the American Brain Tumor Association, brain tumors can cause painful headaches and nausea owing to the pressure they create inside the skull (abta.org).

The night before my daughter passed, she threw up her dinner. As a result, I slept next to her in our guest room’s big bed. I wanted to make sure I was there to take care of her if she got sick again during the night. She didn’t.

That night, her father saw her throw up. He was livid and yelled at me for allowing her to, “overeat to the point of being sick.” She and I tended to eat little throughout the day and then really tuck in for supper. Despite my significant height advantage, we frequently wore the same clothes and had the same eating patterns. I so miss her.

These days, I eat food left at my house by thoughtful friends.

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