Hooked on a feeling

It’s back- that anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach, that subtle gnawing that says things are not ok. I managed the initial guilt of me on holidays while cancer gallops merrily across my mum’s body. I calmed myself when my son rang with the fabulous news of his upcoming interview for the uni of his choice, though I was thinking ‘ how can you contemplate moving away when your grandmother is dying?’ I have justified every happy moment up here as ‘gathering my strength for what’s to come’ I woke from cruel dreams of mum looking fabulous while explaining to me how her end will come, not with a bang but a long drawn out whimper. And when I call her today I know she’ll say she’s fine and want only to hear news of my holiday. But I’ve got a feeling there’s a lot more she needs to say