In a few hours I will have my head in a big white dome, pushing a button when I see red lights flash. I am feeling particularly anxious about my visit to the specialist this year, which I suppose is clear as I have written about it for the past few days. I feel a combination of fear and dread and it is on days like today that I miss my Mom even more than usual.
My Mom died 24 years ago, long before my RP diagnosis. But, I know if she were here she would be comforting me. I miss the feel of her arms around me and the soothing tones of her voice. I miss her unconditional love and support and the way she could always make me laugh even when I felt afraid. I remember her singing me funny songs as we drove to the dentist, because she knew how terrified I was; I wish she was here to sing me a song today.
Stories From the Edge of Blindness 
July 12, 2012 at 1:33 pm
I wish that I could’ve met your mom. I know that she must have been incredibly loving and all around amazing because she is part of you.
July 13, 2012 at 10:25 am
Thank you Sweet P!!!
July 12, 2012 at 5:03 pm
Your mother sounds like a wonderful human being. I imagine her to be the warm, loving nurturer that you are. I wonder if she was as sweet a person as you.
I hope you don’t hear disappointing news today. Remember, your struggles are just as important as your brother’s. Yours aren’t life-threatening in exactly the same way, but you are still having to deal with serious life-changing issues every day. I sometimes don’t know how you manage to stand up under the weight of your own impending blindness. I don’t think I could do even half as well as you.
Remember to treat yourself with the same loving kindness and compassion your mother would have shown you. If I was with you right now, I would wrap you up in my arms and hold you on my voluminous lap. I really do feel the urge to mother you sometimes.
July 13, 2012 at 10:27 am
You are one of my heroes in this life Lady C. And I always feel so comforted by you. Thank you.