Mom. Thank you. Thank you for making sure I had all the specific foods noted on my recovery list. No matter how detailed or specific. You did it all, with pleasure. Turkey, roast beef, all cut into little cubes, the way I like to eat them. Buying me fresh flowers to have next to my bed every night, and keeping the garden fresh and watered when I couldn't get to it. Keeping such a close eye on the flowers that the minute one started to drop or dry out, you instantly replaced it even if it meant grabbing a wild one from outside. Hard boiling my eggs and putting them in little bags in the refrigerator, two in each. Olives and pickles instantly replaced the second you noticed they were slowly declining in numbers as I started to gain my hunger back. Ripping out articles for me to read or emailing me things to read that you know I love like history, social issues, etc. Making sure there was a stack of fresh bandages and tape for me to go through as the healing process changed. Buying me different kinds of thermos' and bottles to drink ice water out of, because you know I like drinking water constantly, and feel it tastes better in special containers. Allowing me at times to keep over 20 of those various bottles next to the bed. Excusing me for suddenly drifting off and falling into a daze when talking with you because of my pain pills or sleeping medications. Laughing when I needed nothing more. Calling me and leaving me a message on my voice mail or text, letting me know about a great new documentary you saw that you thought I would like. Still debating with me over current events and political issues and not backing down on your position no matter how hard I tried to use my masterful powers of persuasion. I could go on forever, but most importantly again, for being there for me no matter what. Allowing me to be vulnerable, irate, angry, irrational, scared... human. Telling you about my diagnosis was one of the harder things I had to do. I had no fear at all on my end, but I worried for you and how you would take it. I know your anxiety with my health issues, so I appreciate you remaining strong and allowing me to keep you away (on purpose) during the harder moments. I didn't want you staying with me at the hospital, etc. for very specific reasons. Please understand in the end, I did it for you. I didn't want you to have to see me a certain way. Not because you would judge or couldn't handle it, but because it would make you hurt too much; especially all the uncertainty. I had to just buckle up and do what I had to do, in my own way. I have such strong faith and belief that things will all be okay in the end, that making you wait on biopsy results, or sitting in a hospital waiting room during my surgery, was something just too painful for me to have to put you through. So in the end, I didn't allow you there with me. You didn't necessarily agree, but I know you understood. I am misunderstood more than I'd care to admit, but I understand that comes with certain territories, especially when certain people love you so much. You feel comfortable enough to be your authentic true self, which if real, consists of many characters and arcs. My actions always speak louder than any words I could say, so I usually lead with them. You never questioned some of my more eccentric actions or choices, and for that too, I am eternally grateful. Thank you again for loving me, and for teaching me what real love is in a world filled with cynics and doubters. I carry that with me, and even in my darkest most jaded moments, you give me hope and remind me that true unconditional love in this world is indeed alive and well and has no timeline. Your Daughter, Jamie Leigh