It was on this day in 2016 when my mom told me she was dying. She didn’t come right out and tell me, but by the tone of the conversation, I knew my Cecilia Marie was fighting a battle.
Sixty days later, she went to heaven.
For the next sixty days, I will take a journey to define how special the last sixty days of life is. How fragile the last sixty days of life is and how much we take it for granted.
Maybe we don’t take it for granted, but we don’t realize that it is someone else’s will that determines everything.
Every day after the market closes, I walk down to my car with my work wife.
He always says, “See you tomorrow Jumbo” and I always reply, “God willing.”
I think my mom knew on this day eight years ago that the kingdom was calling and The Big Chief’s will was being done.
Catlicks love to suffer. Jesus did it for us up on the cross. My mom suffered and so will I.
I don’t think it was the pain of cancer that hurt my Ma the most. I think she was more worried about me and not being there if I needed her. That was what hurt Cecilia the most during the last sixty days.
How am I going to suffer for sixty days?
Take away my booze, my red meat, my desserts, my hotdog, my pizza, my toast and my orgasm. That’s going to put some suffering in my life.
I’m doing it more as a tribute to my mom for all the sacrifice she made raising a little jagoff named John.
I’m going to come closer to my mom and to the faith that she instilled in me through baptism.
The Chalkboard will probably focus more on this sixty-day journey between today and May 6th.
Slap me if I start complaining about missing chocolate eclairs or hotdogs smothered in onions and mustard.
The funny thing about May 6th, 2016…
…I see my Ma more now than I did prior. I realized heaven is much closer than Indianapolis.
It’s going to be a sunny day for a walk. I’m going to find astonishment in how much my shadow has changed in the last week.
