A Year Of Grieving

I was about thirteen when it happened.

My mother, Gracie, had been a hairdresser for as long as I could remember. She was great at her job; everyone loved her just as she loved them. My mom didn't see her clients as just a source of money, she saw them as close and personal friends of hers. She was truly one of a kind.

Due to being a hairdresser and lifting her arms up a lot to cut hair, her back hurt a lot. She often went to get it looked at but the doctors blamed it on her job. They never looked into it until my mother demanded a scan.

Not even a week after the scan she was diagnosed with Stage Four Lung Cancer. Stage Four, out of all stages to begin with. I was so scared for her, and numb. She was issued to a hospital immediately to be watched and cared for. During the weeks, she had spoken to many doctors about possible treatments and such. She even spoke to the number one world's greatest Doctor for Cancer. Sadly, he didn't major in Lung Cancer.

My older brother and I didn't visit her often. My brother immersed himself in video games to escape the real world. I did, too. I hurried myself into projects and stuff to do so I wouldn't have to think about it. Each time I was at the hospital, I felt dead. I felt like the walls were closing in on me. I wanted to be for my mom, I did. But I was too much of a wimp. So, my brother and I whined until our dad took us back home.

It got worse. They had to subtract two cups of fluid from her lungs multiple times due to to her immense pain. The painkillers they gave her had her hallucinating. She thought I was a purple dress, and a payphone. I wanted to cry. My own mother couldn't recognize me, her only daughter. I would rush home and into my room, praying. I couldn't cry. No matter how hard I tried or how badly I wanted to. I had to stay strong, you know? My dad fed off my every emotion.

There was nothing they could do for my mom. Radiation wasn't working. Nothing was working. They hoped her body would respond to a medication they've been testing out, but it wasn't. So, my mom demanded that her, my family, and my grandmother go on a cruise. To forget about the cancer and enjoy our time as a family if it got worse.

Even on the cruise, she stayed in her room all day. I didn't see her often. I didn't go and hang out with her. I feel so horrible looking back on it. She needed me.

My mother passed away on April 22nd of 2011 to join God in Heaven. She passed away in my grandmothers arms at 2:15 in the afternoon on Good Friday. Of all days, you know? I ended up singing "Amazing Grace" for her funeral. I didn't cry, or mess up. I was blank and avoid of all emotions. The song was and is special, her name being Gracie only adds to that.

I feel so horrible. I didn't even get to be with her. I never got to really be with my mother in the first place before it all happened. I ignored her for her last days. Before she died she wanted to come and see me. I declined, a few hours before she died.

I miss her so much. I keep expecting her to walk through the door and hug me and ask me about my day. I miss her warmth and her smell, I dig through her clothes trying to see if her scent still lingers. It doesn't.

I keep waiting for her to pull me over to the Couch to watch T.V with her before bed. I keep expecting her to walk from her bedroom on Sunday morning and eat biscuits and ham with the rest of the family before Church. I want to tell her I'm sorry, that I love her. I can't. I want her to smile at me and cradle me to her like she did when I was younger. I miss her. I need her. I'm only thirteen, I can't live without my mom.

I don't know how long the pain will go on. It seems it's stuck to me like glue, drowning me in my own misery. I wake up everyday going through the motions, pretending to be happy and forcing smiles. I want my mommy back. When she left, she took part of me with her.

I know she's in a better place. I know she's happy now. But I miss her. So bad.

She was only 35.

LethalLove LethalLove
Aug 21, 2012