Trigger warning: mentions of death & battles with cancer
As a ten year old girl, I was forced to watch my mom battle cancer and eventually lose her life. Here’s just a fraction of her story and mine.
My mom and I were best friends from the time I made my entrance on Earth to the time she made her exit from Earth. I would argue that we are still best friends, just with a little more physical distance between us. To know my mom was to love her. Whether you were lucky enough to be apart of her life, or just simply catch her sweet smile in passing, my mom was that girl. Down to her incredibly timeless fashion to the jokes she would make, my mom was like no other woman I have ever known.
I am lucky enough to be her daughter and although I lost her at the age of ten, the years we spent together is something I wouldn’t change for the world. My mom was the epitome of what it means to be the best mom she could have been. On St. Patrick’s Day in 2015, she broke the news to my family and me that she had breast cancer. Following up with doctors after that diagnosis, it was then determined that the kind of breast cancer she had was Stage 3 Invasive Ductal Carcinoma. Being that I was 8 years old at the time of her diagnosis, I didn’t know the severity of what made it’s way from her mouth. The first question I had was “Are you going to lose your hair?”. She laughed and assured me that she would soon be bald. As the months went on, she started chemotherapy and radiation. She got to ring the bell at her last chemo appointment but, to my surprise, that didn’t mean she was healed.
Her diagnosis then made its way into cutaneous metastatic cancer (the most aggressive form of skin cancer) that would be inoperable. Five days after that diagnosis, she was told that her cancer metastasized to her brain. My mom never showed my sister and me how scared she was for the diagnoses she was receiving back to back. She wanted my sister and me to spend our final year with her with smiles on our faces, rather than knowing what the future would bring for her.
My mom stayed optimistic, but she had asked a doctor if she was going to pass, and the doctor told her there were only months left of her life. Knowing now as an adult that my mom had to get this news and then come back to her daughters and pretend that everything would be okay absolutely breaks my heart. I have so much admiration for her. In December of 2015, my mom decided that she wanted a divorce. So now not only was she battling multiple types of cancer, but she was now a single mom to my sister and I. These months that we spent with her are some of the best memories I have with her. We were snowed in shortly after the divorce and she made snow cream for my sister and me. We all slept in our living room and watched movies and shows all day. My mom made us the best dinners and we had the best time every day.
As my mom got sicker and was unable to do things like get up to cook dinner, I would try my absolute best to cook for my sister, her, and myself. I would make instant mashed potatoes and cups of mac and cheese that I would pour into a bowl for all of us to eat. I know that she appreciated it more than anything. My sister would mow the grass for her so she didn’t have to move a muscle. My grandma and grandpa had to come live with us for the rest of her time on Earth because it began to be too much for her body. No matter how sick she felt, she would make sure to show up to my softball games, my sister’s basketball games, and every school event we had.
In 2016, she eventually lost her vision due to the brain cancer. I remember the day I realized she could no longer see me. I had my softball uniform on, my eye black on my face, and a red bow in my hair. I went into her room as she was laying on the bed and was so excited to show her that I got ready by myself. She told me she couldn’t see me and I would need to come closer. She told me she could see my shadow and told me that I looked beautiful.
In February of 2016, I became depressed. I would spend every second I could with my mom. I would sleep in the bed with her every night, miss days of school at a time, and cry in her arms. I didn’t want to be without my mom. One night near Valentine’s Day, I was laying in her bed crying telling her I didn’t want to go to school. She made a deal with me. She said if I go to school, she would have a surprise waiting for me when I got home. I decided to go to school because she gave me the courage to go. I came back home to find a 10-foot long caterpillar stuffed animal laying on my bed. It was red and pink and was the cutest Valentine’s Day themed caterpillar. I still have it on my bed at home to this day. I remember laughing so hard at the thought of her carrying a 10 foot long stuffed caterpillar through the grocery store. For reference, she was 5 feet 2 inches tall.
My mom went through great lengths to keep my sister and I happy through her final days. As death made its way to her, she entered a coma. I didn’t know that a few days after she went into this coma, she would never wake up. On July 18th, 2016, my mom took her last breaths. I laid with her as she left her body. To this day, I think she refused to pass away until I was with her. My sister and I said our goodbyes to her physical body before the funeral home came to take her. I helped hospice wipe down her body before she was taken from her house for good.
Her memorial and funeral services were a blur for me. I gave a speech as a broken hearted 10-year-old girl in front of a packed funeral home twice. My mom gave me the courage to do things like that despite how crushed every part of me was. At the end of her funeral when everyone had cleared out except for my grandparents, sister, and aunt, I went up to the casket that held my mom’s body. I rubbed her head to which I felt tears welling up in my eyes. Her skin was cold, it was hard, and it did not feel like my mom. Every night, my mom would tuck me into bed and tell me she loved me followed by wishing me sweet dreams. I looked at my moms face in her casket and told her “I love you mom, sweet dreams.” The casket was closed a few minutes later. My journey with my mom being on Earth physically with me was over for good. We picked up her ashes a few days later.
Eight years later, I have learned so much through the death of my mom. I have learned to always tell people you love them, to never go to bed mad at anyone as my mom would always tell me, and that grief is love that has no place to go. My mom has been and always will be my best friend no matter how far apart we are. With the short 10 years I got with her, I am so grateful for that time and to know that she was such a great mom to me and taught me lifelong lessons is something I will always hold close to me for as long as I am here. Hold your loved ones extra tight and remember this that my mom told me, “Stop feeling sorry for yourself.” This was one of the greatest pieces of advice she gave me. Get up and do better than you did the day before.
To my sweet mom wherever you are, I love you, and you are the absolute strongest, gentlest, and most loving soul I’ve ever known.