Last night a friend tried to talk me out of the void. Unfortunately, I wasn't a receptive audience.

So many heart trembling moments have come to pass in just the last day. Mom couldn't receive her chemotherapy yesterday because of elevated blood glucose levels. We go back today, after she's fasted, to try the blood test again, hopefully receiving more positive results. I felt regret yesterday, a dull throb of pain in the center of my chest.

On the walk back from the cancer ward, a woman exited the bathroom and looked like she was trembling on the edge of tears. Mom, who was talking to Charlie and me, stopped mid-sentence and approached the woman asking, "Do you need a hug?" They embraced and the woman sobbed and mom crooned, "It'll be ok." I felt more of that dull ache in my chest.

This morning, I stumbled weakly from bed to discover that my brother shaved his head in support of Mom. Where, at one time, tears would have welled, I, again, felt only that ache, only that pulsing echo of emptiness. It is as though I have lost my ability to react, leastwise noticeably. In the last several days, I have become a shell.

I'm dried up. How long before it reaches my soul?