Today as I write this, my mother would have turned 72. This is tragic given that we lost her to metastatic breast cancer when she was 30. I\u2019ve often wondered over the intervening forty-two years what she would have been like. Would she be proud of us? Would we be close, and talk, and laugh?<\/p>\n
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Would I find that I am like her?<\/p>\n
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The honest truth is that I have no idea on that last one. The six-year-old me only knew Mom. The person who put band aids on skinned knees, broke up the bickering with my brother, and told me I really had to go to sleep because she just saw Santa Claus landing on the house next door. I didn\u2019t get to know Mom the person, but I know she had to be amazing.\u00a0 How could she not be?\u00a0 She created my universe.<\/p>\n
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All the years I was growing up, I tried and failed to feel her presence. Anyone who knows me, understands that I don\u2019t believe in ghosts and spirits in the traditional sense. But I do think that when someone has had an important place in your life, they become a part of you mentally. I know this was true with my grandfather. He was there every day for me, and after he passed away when I was 25, I still felt his presence. I think of him when I hear an off-color joke that I know he would have appreciated. I think of him when I eat baked beans, one of his favorites. I love to reminisce with my brother about all the crazy adventures we had camping with grandpa. He was colorful, and lively, and I love how much I am like him sometimes.<\/p>\n
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I don\u2019t have those memories of Mom. The memories that I do have became hazy with time, as has her presence. Its not that I don’t remember her, it is just that it is like a dream.\u00a0 You know you had it the next day, but there isn’t always clarity.\u00a0 Much like watching an old 13-inch black and white tv with an old rabbit ear antenna, the picture is sometimes a bit scrambled.<\/p>\n
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It\u2019s a part of my life that I have hated.\u00a0 I look at pictures and don’t know what they mean.\u00a0 I ordered a copy of my birth certificate about ten years ago, and was fascinated with her signature.\u00a0 \u00a0Up until that point, I don’t recall ever seeing her handwriting.\u00a0 \u00a0I’ve clung to scraps of stories to get insight into her nature.\u00a0 But it’s like watching a movie of someone else’s life.<\/p>\n
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When I was first diagnosed with breast cancer, I thought about mom a lot.\u00a0 As I began to work through my emotions, I began to wonder what her journey was like.\u00a0 I tried to imagine going through cancer with two young kids, and my heart broke.\u00a0 As I have come out the other side as a survivor, I count myself lucky because I know how it can turn out.\u00a0 And how it may turn out in the end.<\/p>\n
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As I was struggling last week with what I wanted to say in mom’s memory, I received a message from one of my most dear friends and fellow breast cancer warriors.\u00a0 She said during a recent meditation she had felt mom’s presence, and that she was proud of me and the work that has become my passion, educating the world about breast cancer.\u00a0 And I suddenly realized something.<\/p>\n
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For the first time in many years, I feel mom’s presence beside me.\u00a0 I have a glimpse into what she experienced, and for the first time in a long time,\u00a0 I embrace that we have shared the same path.\u00a0 I share something with her that no one else did.\u00a0 And even though it is a horrible, ugly disease, I think that we share a common goal – to fight for all those who are afflicted.\u00a0 \u00a0Because I want everyone who has metastatic breast cancer to understand one thing.\u00a0 Your children will not forget you.\u00a0 They will love you always.\u00a0 They will always look for more insights into who you are.\u00a0 And hopefully one day, we will find a cure for metastatic breast cancer so no more daughters and sons have to spend their lives looking for a connection.<\/p>\n
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A cure.<\/p>\n
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For me.\u00a0 For you.\u00a0 For us all.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"