Losing Mom

Losing Mom

From Chicken Soup for the Preteen Soul

Losing Mom

When I was twelve, my parents separated, and I thought that was hard. Then I realized that something else is even harder: losing someone you love very much.

In my opinion “cancer” is the worst six-letter word in the whole dictionary. My mom was first diagnosed with mouth cancer. She spent Mother’s Day in the hospital that year recovering from major surgery. Then, four months later, she was diagnosed with lung cancer. I remember the day so vividly.

When I came home from school that day, my mom’s side of the family was there. They were all crying. My mom said, “Come and sit by me,” and she started crying, too. My heart began to pound really hard and my eyes filled with tears. I definitely knew something major was wrong. My mom was too upset to explain so my grandpa told me. My mom had cancer in both lungs, and she only had a short time to live. My mom and I just sat there and cried together.

My family had to watch my mom go through so much: chemotherapy, radiation, oxygen treatments and the loss of her beautiful hair. She suffered so much, and we couldn’t do anything about it. She couldn’t talk without coughing or losing her breath. She was weak, and she was just slowly dying.

We knew it would happen someday, but not as soon as it did. Everything was over in eight months. I came home from school one day, and my mom wasn’t there. She was always my first concern when I walked through the door. She had been taken to the hospital in an ambulance. We went up to see her that night. I didn’t get my homework done, but I didn’t care.

The next day, my brother Robert and I were called out of school because my mom wasn’t doing well. I went to my locker and started crying. Two of my friends came out and tried to comfort me. When we got to the hospital, my brother Chris met us at the elevator and told us the grim news. I tried not to cry in front of Mom because it would upset her, and then she wouldn’t be able to breathe. I took a deep breath and went in to see her. It was so hard to see her lying there so helpless. I held her hand, and we tried to talk but it was hard for her. I can’t even count how many times I told her that I loved her.

When I left her that night, I had the feeling that it was going to be the last time I saw her alive. When I got home, I called her and we talked some more. I remember the conversation word for word. I told her that she sounded better and that I loved her. That conversation was so special.

The next day, Robert and I were called out of school again. I wanted to cry so badly, but I held back my tears. Chris and my dad were in the car waiting for us. I was so scared to face what was in store for us. When we stepped off the elevator at the hospital, I took a deep breath. I just had a feeling that what I was about to hear wasn’t going to be good. My sister came out of my mom’s room and she was crying. As I got closer, I could see that everyone else was crying, too. I started to shake. My sister came up to me and said, “She’s gone. She died.” I tried to laugh because I didn’t want it to be true. The pain I felt was like no other. My sister asked if I wanted to go in and see her, and I said yes. When it was time for everyone to leave, we went over and gave Mom a last hug. When she didn’t hug me back, I knew it wasn’t a dream.

Some days I really need my mom. When she died, a part of me died, too. However, I knew that I would have to become an adult very quickly. Sometimes I ask myself, Why her? She did not deserve any of the pain that she went through. She fought hard for her children. We meant the world to her, and I know she didn’t want to leave us.

I always thought my mom would be here for special things like homecoming, prom, graduation and my wedding day. It’s hard knowing she’s not going to be. She’s never going to know her grandchildren or see Robert and I grow up. I would do anything to have her back. I miss and love her so much.

Very few people consider the true dangers of smoking. They think it is cool because everyone else is doing it. But it isn’t. It really isn’t.

I’m sure that at least one of you reading this thinks that life would be so much better without your parents. I have a little tip for you: Live life to its fullest and love your parents. It’s hard to go on without them.

Diana Carson, fifteen

[EDITORS’ NOTE: For support in dealing with the illness or loss of a loved one due to an illness, call Kids Konnected at 1-800-899-2866, or log on to www.kidskonnected.org.]

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