If I press against the wrinkles embedding my forehead whilst my eyes are closed, the pain lessens a bit.
In my head.
I feel like I’ve been fighting a sinus infection for months now. A sinus infection that won’t quite smack me down just yet. An infection that lurks around the corner waiting to jump out at me at the most inopportune time.
My cell phone vibrates for two seconds and stops. Then it buzzes again. Someone is calling and my heart leaps into my throat.
My head no longer hurts.
I look down and see a number I don’t know, an area code I don’t know. I hit decline and breathe a little easier.
For a moment.
My head throbs again.
The tears bled my eyes yesterday when I picked up Lovie from school. I had just learned Oma has “days” left, they believe (hospice).
So now I really wait. And think of ways to doctor my appearance the next time I’m with Lovie.
“Oma’s very sick,” I’ve been telling her. “I need you to give her a big hug and kiss when we see her,” I told her last time I brought her for a visit a week ago. “And I really need you to look at her face, look into her eyes. Do you understand?”
She nods. “Oma’s sick?”
How will I tell her she’s gone when she finally leaves us?