I was going to post something on Twitter, but seeing as how I’m “Funny all of the time” over there, it didn’t feel right to urinate on anyone’s festivities by bringing my own private reality into the fun & games.
Still, in this digital, bloggy, sharing age, I did feel like making some kind of missive, mainly because I just want to slice open my heart and let the pent up emotion bleed out. I’ve made a joker of myself on podcasts, webcasts, interviews, in writing, on panels, in person - it’s what I do. And it’s what I like doing. If there’s a grade of entertainer below “Z”, I’m probably it. One of those bizarre “web personalities” people keep yammering on about.
But keep in mind - no one has to read this.
I just feel like writing it.
My mother is dying.
I’ve known for the past year that this would most likely be the outcome of her breast cancer’s brutal return, but who wants to process the information when the delusion of a cure, or a medical fluke, still remains a comfortable dream that allows for one to go about their life, trying to believe nothing has changed…
Like a fool.
A selfish fool.
In the past week, things have gotten far worse, and reality has come crashing through the façade.
I want to thank each and every one of you that took time to send postcards after her diagnosis last year. Each arrival was a delight for her, proving the power of the internet to shrink the world and make the life of a single person significant.
There’s a lot I want to write about my mother, but I can’t do it right now. I don’t want to do it right now. One day, I will.
I’ve had a song playing in my head for the past week. I debated whether to share this - some might view it as silly. I don’t care, really - I did this for my mother. Right now, she’s still here. And I’m going to go be with her. And show her this:
All I ask is - go give someone you love a hug. And don’t let go.
PS - Fuck cancer.