The Life I Never Wanted to Learn to Live
It was November of 2017 the day before Thanksgiving, which in my household is always a very exciting time. Mom is always in the kitchen prepping for tomorrow’s dinner, putting out her best dishware and decorations and confirming who will be dropping by for dinner. This particular year looked a little different. Mom was working the day before, I was also working the night before as I was a waitress and my boyfriend at the time (now husband) was also working. On my way out to work, my mom was coming home and I rolled down my window for a minute to say hi and bye and kept it moving. A couple of hours at work had passed and one of my coworkers had said my dad was on the phone and at the time, I didn’t know that was the phone call that was going to change my life forever.
At that moment, everything went black, I don’t even know how I safely made it to the hospital but I knew my mom needed me and I needed to see her. Fast forward after spending many days in the ICU waiting for answers, we were told the unimaginable. My mom, who has been invincible to me my whole life, suddenly had cancer, arguably the worst kind. In a day or two after getting the news, she would be heading in to have brain surgery to safely remove as much of the Glioblastoma as possible. After the surgery, I’m not sure why but I was almost afraid to see her. I was relieved she was out of it safely but I was hesitant to walk over to her but when I did, it was as if nothing happened and she was herself again.
At the time, I didn’t know what this cancer was or how serious it was, survival rates, nothing like that. After many more days in the hospital, it was finally time to go home and you wouldn’t even know that my mom had an illness or went through a serious procedure. I was 23 at the time and while I was taking care of my mom, driving her to and from chemo and with a full work and school schedule, I was still managing a social life thinking my mom was “cured”. Fast forward to January of 2023 after countless clean scans, the disease was back bigger and badder than ever. This time around I did take the time to do some research about this disease and I really wish I hadn’t. I was naive and thought, “Okay, she will have another surgery and will be better again like last time”. This was not like last time, not even close. I knew it was bad when the surgeon suggested we start looking up trials because that was the only thing left to do after he did a second brain surgery on her.
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After that, we got a little over a year with her. She passed away in April of 2024. I felt numb the day she passed. I should have been crying more and felt guilty that I didn’t. I think I cried so much during the whole process that I didn’t have anything left in me to let out at the time. When she passed, a part of me died with her. I know that because I haven’t been the same since and it's been two years now.
There have been days, months when I’ve held myself from joy and happiness because how could I ever be happy without my mom? I don’t actually think I’ve fully processed everything or am even close to trying to be at peace with it. I’ve gone through the “why me” stage, depressed stage, anger and guilt and at the end of the day, none of it has given me the peace I was hoping for. My grief has mentally held me back from a lot and I don’t know how to get through it. Now her belongings sit in my storage and every time I look at it I cry, every time I think of her, I cry and I can’t even talk about her without getting upset. My ultimate goal is to process my grief in a way that I am able to talk about her and feel joy because I am proud that she is my mom, that I’m able to go through her stuff and laugh about all of the crazy and random things she accumulated and to look at pictures and be fond of the memories without being upset. I will be the first to admit that grief has negatively taken over my life mentally and physically at times but now that I am a mother, I really want to work on positively pouring into that role.
My grief will always be part of me, but I'm ready for it to no longer be the center of my story. To whoever is reading this, do not rush through your grief or put it on the back burner. I’ve felt every second of my grief everyday, and I think that is one of the reasons I’m ready for it to stop controlling my life. What I’ve learned about grief is that it will hit you in places you wouldn’t expect. Suddenly, a trip to the grocery store becomes unbearable when one of her favorite songs is being played loudly over the speakers or in that same store, seeing a mother and daughter laughing and shopping together and now I’m fighting back tears.
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