understand because honestly, it’ s taken me a long time to get it myself. I’ ve come to realize that there’ s a difference between being afraid of dying, and being afraid of death.”

“ Huh?” I said. She was right. I didn’ t understand.

Mom grinned and said,“ See I knew it would be hard. I’ m afraid of dying. I’ m afraid to get sicker and not be able to walk anymore. I’ m afraid to lose control of my own body. I hate the

able to get out of bed. The time will come when I can’ t even eat anymore.” She emphasized this by taking a bite out of her cheeseburger and taking a big gulp of her chocolate milkshake.

I absolutely can’ t stand it that soon there will have to be someone who comes into my own home to take care of me,” she went on.“ But all these things are going to happen, Diane. You look at it like I’ m quitting, but I look at it like I’ m getting ready for the biggest fight of all since I was diagnosed. Even though I’ m afraid of dying, I still want to do it my way. I want to have all of you around me and when the time comes, I want you all to let me go.”

My sobs brought the waitress over to make sure we were ok. At that time of day we were the only ones in the diner so we weren’ t disturbing anyone. Mom patted her hand and told her we were fine. She asked her to bring

April 2013 | pieforseven. com 49