John McCain and How I Lost My Mother
Fairfax, Virginia 1998, a weekend. My mother wasn't herself. She was irritated. Visibly upset. She snapped at us and then laid on couch, rubbing her head. I was yet 18, but as she dismissed my siblings one early Summer afternoon in Virginia, I knew something was wrong. This wasn't a sinus infection as diagnosed. That day my siblings had practice, they were late to practice and my mother refused to drive them. I didn't have my license, and if I recall correctly, mind you a big "if", I hopped in the car and drove my younger brother and younger sister to their respective practices. My mother all the while, on the couch, alone in our living room, staring at the ceiling. It felt like the hottest day of the year. Twenty-four hours later, my mother was in surgery, having a brain tumor removed. Never was life the same. I'm unsure if any of the above is real, to be honest, it all becomes a blur. I've tried, for nearly twenty years, to piece together the horro...