My mom died 3½ years ago and I still think about her every day. Usually once a day I will have a thought about “I should call her” and then I remember, no, I can’t call her, she’s dead.
She was diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer, and then it went into remission for a few years, and then all of a sudden it came back, having metastasized to her bones. I learned a lot about cancer treatment and also, what cancer does to the entire family. It’s like the whole family is sick, and it becomes an ongoing journey of tests, waiting for test results, the anticipation of test results, changing the course of treatment, seeing how the new treatment works, tests, test results, and on and on and on.
What I didn’t realize when she was diagnosed with bone cancer is that, although the bone cancer can’t be cured, but can be treated, it breaks down the bones and the calcium spills into the blood stream, screwing up the kidneys which has a whole host of bad symptoms. Then it spread to her liver, which she never told me. She told me she had spots on her liver. For about a year I was hearing she had spots on her liver. Every time she went to the oncologist, I would ask my mom “What did she say about the spots on your liver?” Every time, she said “she says not to worry about them.” So I figured if the doctor says don’t worry about them, I won’t worry about them.
At the end, she was very frail and weak. I made an appointment with a grief counselor. She told me I was in a good position because I was coming to her (the counselor) prior to my mom’s passing, so I could prepare. I told her how my mom was such an inspiration to me when I was growing up. She had a BA in Biology, and then when I was about 10 she went back and got her MBA (this was in the 70s when this was a relatively new field for women). She used to dress up every day for work, take the train to the city (NYC), and it was all very inspiring. She was beautiful, smart, everything. The therapist told me that maybe I wanted to let her know.
So with my sister, who is 18 years my junior, we talked about what the therapist said. We went together to my mom’s bed, where she was laying very weak. We both told her about how she inspired both of us. She could barely speak but she said “that’s sweet.” She died about a week or two later.
I saw the grief counselor one or two more times.
My mom, like many matriarchs, was the glue that held the family together. The family is still together, but she was really the hub. She used to have parties and dinners and we all went for holidays and cookouts. She was tireless when it came to being a hostess. Wee’d go on vacation together and to things like the circus and plays in the city. That’s changed when she died. We still gather but we will just as easily go to a restaurant. The dynamics have changed, not worse, not better, just different.
For me, I kind of have rolled with the punches. I miss her every day and I know the whole family misses her dearly.