My mom died from cancer a few weeks ago, and her black cat, Cole, was the only thing holding me together. When he disappeared after her funeral, I thought I’d lost the last piece of my mother. On Christmas Eve, Cole came back with something in his mouth, and where he led me next left me in tears.It was four days before Christmas, and I was sitting in my mom’s living room, staring at the lights. She’d hung them too early. But that was her thing.
Even when the chemo drained her down to nothing, she still wanted the sparkle.The lights made everything feel festive and wrong at the same time.The ornaments were half unpacked on the table. The same ones she’d collected since I was a kid. She made me promise I’d put them up. Made me say it out loud in her final week.”You’ll still decorate the tree, right, baby?” Her voice was papery and barely there.I said yes even though everything inside me wanted to scream no.
