Loss
Part 1: Growing Up
Growing up with a sick parent really takes away from what most people would call a “normal” childhood. It didn’t make my childhood bad, though. I used to play outside with my neighbor's kids and we’d ride bikes. All activities that “normal” kids did. However, back in the house was when things stopped being so “normal”. When I was three, my mom was diagnosed with colon cancer, this eventually ended up spreading into breast cancer, then into lung cancer. Her illnesses eventually became terminal, and my parents both knew it was only a matter of time. Sometimes she’d have to lay on the kitchen table so my dad could pump her lungs before we went out of the house. Watching that process was always really unnerving, especially for a four or five year old child. Both my mom and dad tried really hard to make sure we had good memories with my mom before she passed. We went to Disney, we would go out for ice cream on fridays, and she’d help me with my homework. I do have a lot of good memories with my mom, and that’s something I’m so grateful for. However, the sicker she got, the less she was able to do with us; it got to the point where she wasn’t able to put us to bed anymore. We’d have to go into her room and kiss her goodnight, she’d give my sister and I each a stuffed animal she had been cuddling with all day so it would be “filled with love” by the time bedtime came around. This was the normal for my childhood, and it’s something that I’ll remember for a while.