We sat around the table eating birthday cake. It was nice to be seated together again. It wasn't very often there were time to do it because everyone was busy with their own things.
"I have a special surprise for you this year." She looked at the easel where a fresh canvas was sitting, waiting to be splattered with paint.
"What, the easel? Or the canvas?"
"Well, a mixture of them both. I'm going to paint you. For your room."
"Are you serious? That is so cool! Thanks Mom!" I hugged her tight and we began straight away.
After hours of standing still, she finally said: "You can go now sweety, i think i got what i need. I can finish on my own now," she said smiling at me.
She worked on the portrait of me for days.
"Is it done?" I asked as i stood with my eyes closed out in the hall on her command. "Wait and you'll see," she said playfully. She steered me into the room and i opened my eyes.
"It's amazing!" I exclaimed.
"Really? You like it?" she said, over ecstatic with joy.
"I love it, thanks Mom," I kissed her cheek and she blushed.
We hang the picture above my bed in my room. It definitely made my bedroom that more special.
"I was thinking of something," I said to my Mother one day. "How about we make it a tradition to paint every heir or heiress of our family? We can tell our children that it is a tradition and hopefully they will continue it."
"What a wonderful idea sweety. I just wish someone would do one of me, but i don't think we have much time," she said looking down at her feet.
My mother had been diagnosed with a rare decease.
I still remember the conversation we had had with the doctor that dreadful day two weeks ago.
"Mrs. Bloom." He greeted my Mom. "We got your test results back," he put the papers on his desk and flipped the pages to the one he was looking for. "I'm afraid it's bad news." He paused for a moment.
"What is it doctor?" I asked nervously. I feared it was something very serious, and i was right.
"This might come as a chock, but you have lung cancer."
In that moment silence was so deafening that you would have been able to hear a needle drop on the floor.
My Mom broke the silence: "Well, is there treatment? I can get treatment right?"
"I'm afraid not. You can get treatment, but it won't do you any good. You have small cell lung cancer which spreads very quickly. I'm afraid you don't have much time left." He looked from my Mom to me. "Can you give us a minute alone?"
"Whatever you're going to say, you can say in front of my daughter," she said harshly.
"Of course," he said a bit taken aback. "I know this is a big shock. You probably weren't ready to hear this, but no matter i feel it is my duty to inform you of it. If you haven't already you should make a will and start prepare so your children can benefit as much as possible. I can help you in touch with a good lawyer if you wish. And you should make the most of out of the time you have left."
I looked up at the doctor, tears stained my face. "How much time do you estimate she has left?"
"I'm afraid it isn't good. A month, maybe two. But i can't give more time than that. I'm so sorry," he said sincerely.
As we left the doctors office i was surprised at how well my Mother took the news. I was the one who had cried. I was the one who was scared of losing my Mother forever! But i could only guess at what she must have been feeling. I dared not to ask.
"Don't worry Mom. We don't need a painting of you. I will always be able to picture you in my mind as a loving Mother, a devoted grandmother and a responsible heiress to the household of Bloom." I said with all the love i could muster.
"Thank you darling. I would like to be alone with my easel now, if you don't mind." She said sounding very sad.
"Are you sure? If you want i can just sit on the bed and read a book. You don't have to be alone in this, you know. We're all here for you." I said earnestly.
"I know, but i really need some time alone with my thoughts." She sent me a little smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Alright, i'll just go make dinner. I'll call you when it's done," I said, not sure this was a good idea. I felt more safe with her around me, than her being alone. What if something happened and i wasn't there to help her? What if she died alone? I wanted to be there to support her in everything, but she wouldn't let me. She insisted daily to be by herself with her easel. It was difficult for me to imagine myself in her place. How could anyone really imagine what it would be like to know you were going to die soon and there was nothing you could do to stop it? She wasn't supposed to know when she would die. She was supposed to live a lot longer! I wanted her to meet my children! Her grandchildren! She was only 68 for christ sake!
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