One day, we'll meet again

It happened more than a year ago from today, on a late Saturday afternoon.

In my head, the memory of that day is fuzzy, almost in the penumbra. I feel like I do not remember the room or whether the sun had already set as it does in winter or if it was still bright outside. I only remember her face, after I had tucked her in bed and had wrapped all the blankets around her.

I cannot remember whether I kissed her cheek, I think I did. When I was about to leave the room as she was going to sleep, suddenly her face had broken into a sad reflection of the agony she was feeling inside.

What she said to me was: "I'm sorry I could do nothing for you. I've just been a burden."

Words are like bullets, they hit so hard, but it takes times for them to make you bleed.

It was unexpected what she said.

I cannot remember my reaction clearly but every time I think back about it, I realize how great her pain must have been.

I feel ashamed of myself at times, I was not able to say anything to console her. What do you say in these situations? I had just said no and then somehow ended up turning off the lights. Something had died inside of me.

I couldn't tell her "Mom, you gave me life and I'm grateful. There's no bigger gift than that."

I did not know how to.

After 7 years of cancer, needles, blood, chemotherapies and pain, she is no longer with me. It will be almost a year since she is gone.

I could sit here and tell you all about how sad it was that after the long and difficult fight she did not make it.

It was hard, but what was harder was the choice she made all those years ago: the choice to fight since the beginning.

And that is the first thing my mother taught me: you do not get to choose that bad things will not happen to you. But you always have a choice on how to react and what to do about it.

It was not easy: the crying, the hurting, the continuous hospital visits, the screaming, the sadness. It affected her but not once did she give up.

It takes a lot of willpower, a lot of courage. Once she told me that at the chemotherapy unit there was a lady who was getting her treatment and she had bought her baby with her. She told me, it was sad because she thought about us (me, my brother and sister) and was relieved that we were grown up but what about the child of that lady who was just a baby?

It takes a big heart to be able to feel things. It is even greater to be able to forget about our own pain to think about others. Seeing this through her eyes made me understand that there is a great driving force that keeps us going: hope. Understanding that yes, life makes us suffer but we are not the only ones suffering in this whole world.

For my mom, it was also the hope to get better.

Two years ago, her health had worsened and, due to the pain and too much bleeding, she had surgery to have a colostomy bag. There would be a bag and she would have to cut a hole in it to be able to apply it on herself. As she would change several bags in a day, she would cut them all when she was free. My dad told me that when he visited her in the hospice the last week she was there, she cut so many bags, all by herself. He told me that even if the scissors fell, she kept on going. It was hope that she will be fine again. Hope that she will use all of those bags. She did not.

After her surgery for the colostomy, my mom was admitted to the hospital, and I stayed with her for a long time during the afternoons as I was free. The doctors would come to speak to her and check how she was. One afternoon one of the main doctors came and, after the greetings, she very calmly said something along the lines of, “You shouldn’t think too much about what you want to do in the year to come, think about what you want to do today or tomorrow or the day after.”

I knew what the meaning of those words was, and my mom knew too. I remember I sat on a chair by the bed, and I started to cry.

Not one tear fell from her eyes. She was smiling at me and telling me “Don’t listen to her.” And when I did not stop crying, she kept on talking and said that if I ever needed to speak to someone I should speak to my dad or my auntie. And that day she told me something that I never have, or will, forget. She said that some people just pretend to care for a moment and will never understand you, that they might listen to you for a while and give you advice but, at the end of the day, they will go back to their lives and be happy and forget about you and what you told them.

It is sad and harsh. But I know today that it is the truth. Often it has happened to me, but I am stronger now.

For example, in school, I used to speak to my head tutor about how I felt and sometimes I would cry to her too, and I realized how she would do exactly as my mom said: she would listen to me and tell me a few things just to carry on with her day after. And I know there is nothing wrong with that. Then suddenly, one day she just left, and word went around that she had received the job of headteacher in a school. I am happy for her, of course, but it makes me see things differently: we share our pain with others, but we should not expect everybody to understand it. We cannot hold it against them because that is how the world is. Humans are busy and do not have time for everyone and everything. Only those who care about us and know us can try to understand.

My mother has left me with so many teachings that I cannot express them all in words: she taught me that it takes courage to live, she taught me things are beautiful even if they are not great. She taught me it is okay to have less and eat less rather than hurt someone to have more. She taught me how to be grateful.

She taught me to work hard for myself: when I finished school at 18 and had 3 months off before university, she told me to find a job, to work hard, to save money, to get a driving licence and only today I realize why. It was so that I would financially be stable and be able to do things independently.

She taught me to follow my dreams: two years ago, for my birthday she bought me my first ever digital drawing tablet. I know parents who do not like it when their children follow arts or music, but she never stopped me. I am grateful to her because she believed in me and let me follow my passion. Today I have improved so much but the first step was that birthday gift.

She taught me forgiveness: It takes courage to forgive people who hurt you, but she did. She knew who did bad to her, but she never resented them. It is because of that that I am able to live the way I do, not holding things against anyone. It is easier that way. We all come with an expiry date and there is no point in being in arguments or fights or anything that disturbs the peace of mind.

She taught me faith: she believed in God. She believed that God is good even after all the suffering that she went through. She would cry sometimes, “God, why did you do this to me?” but straight after she’d reason with her own self saying things such as “whatever God does is for the best” and “there are people who have it worse than me.”

She taught me how to make sacrifices: it breaks me that she made the choice to abandon her everything to move to somewhere where she had only her husband and could not even speak the language, spending most of her time alone in the house, just so her children would have a brighter future. And when the cancer came, it must have scared her. Alone and not being able to communicate without an interpreter for the language barrier. Yet she never stopped smiling. Even on the last day that she spoke to me, she was smiling and laughing. We were the ones crying.

I know now how superficial of a human I was.

I did not see those sacrifices she had made. I did not realize that perhaps she did feel alone at times.

I never asked her what were her dreams?

I will never know anything for certain apart from the fact that she made me the person I am today.

She made me.

I will never understand why good people suffer the most.

When she left the world, I stood by her side and held her hand. It will be almost a year yet, when I sleep and dream about her, I sometimes end up believing she is still here and then it hurts me to realize she is not anymore. And it breaks me.

The thought of never taking a photo with her, never telling her happy birthday, never receiving a phone call from her hurts me too much to be explained by simple words.

How could she live with a smile for those 7 years while the cancer was spreading and taking away her life? We spent much of our time going in and out of hospitals and she never got tired. She had the kind of energy that was so fragile yet so powerful.

She is the strongest person I ever met. I am strong because of her.

And I will forever be grateful that she is my mother.

Death can take people away from us, but it cannot break the relationship. Nothing will ever change the fact that she is my mom.

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I hope I will be a good daughter, mom.

I wish I had told you that you did everything for me. That you were not a burden but a blessing. You are the one who taught me to live.

Life is going to hurt us all at some point because there are sad times just as there as happy ones but, it takes courage to not give up. It takes hope to carry on. It takes resilience to keep on fighting. It takes faith to keep on believing. It takes a strong heart to make sacrifices. It takes humanity to see the pain of others. It takes strength to live life.

The last words you spoke to me were, "We'll meet again." I hope we do.

I wish you could be my mother in every lifetime.

Thank you for everything.

I love you, mom.