|
Description:
|
|
Sitting in an emergency room, trying to catch his breath, Paul Currington had one thought playing over and over in his mind: “Please, God, please don’t let my last thoughts on Earth be of my mother.” They weren’t his last thoughts, especially of his mother. Growing up, Currington’s mother smoked two to three packs a day — always enveloped in clouds of smoke. She had a volcanic temper, he says: “I would do anything to not have to go home so I wouldn’t have to show up in her crosshairs.” But he couldn’t hide from the smoke. “What I hated most,” he told an audience at a live storytelling event earlier this month, “was I knew she was killing herself.” Cancer took his mother’s voice, and soon after her life. “In the month and a half it took her to die, my mother didn’t say a word,” Currington said. “It was the scariest, and strangely the calmest, month and a half of my life.” He won every argument with his mom after that, he says. “Until that night in the ER, where her spirit rose up,” he |