While I was tucking in Ike, he noticed the redness of the bottom of my feet. It prompted a very off the cuff kind of question and answer session between us.
Ike: Mommy, why are you still taking Ninja medicine (chemo)?
Me: Because it is working to kill the cancer cells.
Ike: But I thought you got rid of the cancer. It's still there? Why? You lost your hair and everything.
Me: My cancer is a kind of sneaky, tricky kind and it didn't kill all of the bad cells last time.
Ike: So you have it again? (His voice breaking up) Mommy....I thought it was gone.
Me: (I lost it-bawling) I did too honey.
(He crawled up in my lap and buried his head)
After rocking him for a few minutes, I told him this medicine was doing a good job.
Ike: Are you going to die? This time...are you gonna die?
Me: Everyone dies.
Ike: Sometimes babies in Mommy's tummies, old people, like that?
Me: Yes-everyone. I am no different. One day I will too. But I'm going to heaven. I love Jesus. He will be so excited to see me. And you, one day.
Ike: Will you look different?
Me: I will look better. My hair will probably be longer.
There was a long pause. I guess he was processing the information again.
Ike: Will you know me when you get to heaven? Can I find you there?
Folks, this is probably the hardest conversation I have had to have with someone with the exception of telling my middle son when I was re-diagnosed. Seriously, I could barely breathe as we were talking.
Ike ended it with saying, "Mommy I want Jesus to hold you with his whole heart."
Me too.
precious.
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