One of those days you would like to curse.
They went to visit her at the grave.
Flowers were brought and then they were laid.
Seventeen years have gone past,
since they laid her there, down to rest.
It's opening day so I'm on the stand,
waiting to hear the results from the scan.
He called to tell me the news of his mother.
It was about what they had discovered.
Hearing the painful sound of the word.
We all asked if it could be cured.
The answer was no, not now, nor ever,
unless its the plans of our greatest creator.
They said that she's barely alive.
It's already at stage five.
So we loaded our things and packed up clothes.
We both knew where we wanted to go.
It was just some pains like she had before,
but it took her to the doctors door.
You should be dead are the words he said.
Your liver, your colon, is where it's spread.
Just two years ran through our ears,
that's the time she has left here.
Her chemo started while turning fifty-three,
all we could do is pray from our knees.
So once a week she took the beaten,
waiting to hear that it has weakened.
Up and down the results came through,
but here we were now the end of year two.
We watched her with all of her might.
She worked really hard to conquer the fight.
Here we are now almost six months past,
wishing that time didn't travel so fast.
We've all had a chance to say goodbye,
to make it easier for us when she closes her eyes.
Ashlie N. Martin 3/29/2013