The 'C' Word

Last year on the evening of the 23rd of September I got told that my terminally ill mother had passed away. She was 42 years old and had been fighting various tumours for two years.

The relationship I had with her was practically non-existent but her death still completely ruined me. I felt like I didn't even know who I was anymore. I felt guilty because when I was told, I didn't cry and I was worried that meant I was an awful person. I think I was just in shock. The next few months involved two trips to suicide watch, depression, self harm and insomnia, but that's a different story. This is about my mum.

I'm a completely different person because of my mum's death. It changed me, whether it was in a good way or a bad way, I don't really know.

I miss her everyday, despite the tense relationship we had and all of her faults. She made life hell for me and at times I honestly hated the woman. But the hurt and love I feel when I think about her make up for all of the bad things, because at the end of the day, she was my mother.

Watching her go through cancer was horrible. I watched her die slowly over two years and it was more than a lot of people will see in a lifetime. The last few weeks of her life were the worst. She lost her memory, her sense of who she was. She thought she was at home for the entire time she was in the hospice and it killed me knowing that she thought she was at home with her family in her last few weeks instead of a lying in hospital bed, pumped up full of drugs and hooked up to machines.

What got to me the most was how thin she got. She was literally just skin and bones by the time she died. Her arms and legs were like sticks and her skin was so papery and thin. She looked like a living skeleton.

When she got told she was going to die, she started making plans. She left me and my sister and my stepdad letters and gifts she wanted us to have. Her favourite CDs, perfume, her jewellery. Things like that. But still to this day I can't read the letters she left me without breaking down in tears for hours, simply just because of the writing. Towards the end she got really bad shakes in her hands and couldn't write properly, and yet she still pushed herself to write a good-bye letter to us all. It felt like she was leaving me a suicide note. Her writing is all messy and jerky in the letters and it hurts more than I can describe to see it, just being reminded of how ill she was and how much she went through.

I went to see her in the funeral home before her funeral and it was one of the strangest experiences I've ever had. I thought she was going to jump up at any minute and start walking round. The smell was strange and I didn't like it all and I was scared. Before I walked in to see her, I freaked out. A dead body. I was going to be alone in a room with a dead body, and not just anyone. My own mother. But I made myself do it. I made myself go in and see her. Her skin was so strange without all the blue veins and she looked like a wax figure. She may as well have been. I kept touching her, her arms and her stomach and her legs, just for confirmation that she was real. She was no longer, the soft, warm loving mother I remembered from when I was younger, but a cold, hard wax body in a pretty lace coffin.

I promised her I'd be there every step of the way for her, even when she was gone. Her funeral was hard and I cried a lot.

Everyone kept telling me that it was going to be okay and things would get better, and part of me wanted to believe them. But I found out that those were just words with no real meaning behind them.

It's still hard. When people tell you that it gets easier with time, it doesn't.

It just gets different.
Theblissfullydead Theblissfullydead
18-21, F
3 Responses Oct 24, 2013

I'm sorry, I havent had to strength to post my story. It does get different as time goes on, you miss having her around. Whenever mother day comes around, I cry for about (what seems like forever) 10 minutes. Hoping she'll come around the corner and into my room saying everything will be alright. I know this sounds stupid, but I wish every night just, to have a memory of her, like a dream. My wish hasn't come true for 9 years. I'll wake up to the sounds of my sister crying. My sister was only a toddler when she died. She never really got the chance to meet her. Then we both start crying and then my dad comes in and starts to hit her, which only makes me cry more. Just recently has he first started to molest me. Sometimes, I wish he had died, not her. My mother was everything to me.

Im sorry what you went through losing your mom. My foster mom died of cancer 3 days before Christmas day. She was ill for 10 months and I knew she was dying. It was horrible when she died because she never apologized for hitting me all those 16 years I lived with them. I had to deal with it alone.
Take your time to recover from your loss.

I'm sorry, my sincere condonlence

Thank you, it means a lot