I have the need to write, write, write. Get as much as me onto this virtual paper as I can. I feel like Michael J. Fox in Back to the Future, looking at a picture of myself as I slowly disappear. Slowly becoming irrelevant, my hands are transparent. I have to quickly make sentences into something substantial before I am gone entirely.
What will I leave for my daughters? My amazing, smart, beautiful girls. Words are not enough. Have I given them everything they will need? I've given them each other.
Oh how I do not want them to be sad. Have I given them enough good memories of me? Will they remember me being happy? laughing? loving?
Will they be able to feel me when I'm gone?
I think the hardest thing about a mother dying is not being able to hold her children and get them through it; not being there when they need her most.
Harriet Tubman said "Every great dream begins with a dreamer. Always remember, you have within you the strength, the patience, and the passion to reach for the stars to change the world."
An old friend told me "You did grow up and change the world. You raised three incredible daughters and that is an amazing contribution to this world."
I have given them each other.