Today was a hard day.

I took my second of 11 tests for my work certification, and Mom had a doctor's appointment.
He told her she wouldn't see another Christmas if she didn't decide to join the party. And although it was hard on the ears, it wasn't unexpected.

I get we will all die someday; I just thought Mom would be one of those who raged against the dying of the light. In my head, she breathed life wherever she went; brimming over with quick wit and messy love for strangers.

Somewhere, between the then and now, she grew bitter. She shared once she'd not forgiven God for not giving her the life she expected. I wondered at the time how life could have ever been prepared for her.

Now... is different. Her body is weak. Her mind can't always get messages past her emotions through to her nerves, as if her thoughts get caught in darker gridlock.

She seems here, but she fades into grayness more and more often. I don't even recognize the person wearing my mother's skin.

And as much as I want to wish her back, to show a light, a path, she flickers to the in-betweens. I want to be angry that is where she makes her home... But I am caught, praying for her peace and an end to her suffering more.

My posts and messages about her have been too brief and inconsistent. I kept thinking she would pull herself from this depressive mire, lean into the struggle, see winter can mean Christmas and not just endless snow; and then I'd share _that_ with the world. Because it might mean spring was coming, or Mom the Firebreather awoke.

Today happened instead. And while I cry in my warm, too large for me house, she passes the night 5 blocks down, living far, far away.