There isn’t much in life that I take seriously unless absolutely necessary. I’ve always felt that only things that need to be taken seriously should and that has served me well for a very long time. The way I normally deal with problems is that I try to either ignore them or become emotionally detached, but it’s never meant that I don’t care.

When I laughed upon hearing that my mum has cancer it wasn’t due to a lack of empathy, it was that I’d thought I was about to hear she was dead. Anything else was an improvement. The truth is that I have no idea how to deal with such a thing myself, let alone deal with other peoples feelings.

She hadn’t been eating much recently yet went to Queensland over the new year anyway and was submitted to hospital while there, during which time a test showed that the cancer has spread to her lungs and spine. When talking to her yesterday, now that she was back at home, she mentioned her fear in between wracking sobs that she might lose the ability to walk and it was this moment that finality of her death turned into a reality for me.

Sure I knew all along that there was a chance she could die, but I guess I’d always hoped that my mum would be one of the lucky ones and she’d make it through to live many a year more. I know now that isn’t going to happen and I try not to dwell on the thoughts of the details to help me keep it together.

I’ve warned Oui that, should she survive long enough for us to see her when we move back, he should prepare himself for how dramatically different she will look and in saying so I know that no matter how prepared I try to be, I’m not going to be able to control my emotions when faced with how the cancer will have destroyed my memory of her.

Phew, that was hard to write.