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My mom has died.
a year ago
Fuck cancer.
4:56 PM, Eastern Time. I get a call from the social worker. Her voice was unusually soft even for her, and... yeah. It was the call.
She's gone. I visited the hospice unit. Many of the nurses were wearing the ribbons I made - the three color blue/purple/yellow ribbon for bladder cancer, and I added a teardrop amethyst rhinestone in the intersecting part of the ribbon. It was so nice to see. It was surreal. It was the same shock I had when I first saw my mom, four days after her birthday. I broke down crying.
Tomorrow I'll be working on funeral arrangements.
Fuck cancer. I wanted my mom to ring that goddamn victory bell. Or whatever it is called, the bell at cancer treatment offices. But no. She had to be taken by cancer.
4:56 PM, Eastern Time. I get a call from the social worker. Her voice was unusually soft even for her, and... yeah. It was the call.
She's gone. I visited the hospice unit. Many of the nurses were wearing the ribbons I made - the three color blue/purple/yellow ribbon for bladder cancer, and I added a teardrop amethyst rhinestone in the intersecting part of the ribbon. It was so nice to see. It was surreal. It was the same shock I had when I first saw my mom, four days after her birthday. I broke down crying.
Tomorrow I'll be working on funeral arrangements.
Fuck cancer. I wanted my mom to ring that goddamn victory bell. Or whatever it is called, the bell at cancer treatment offices. But no. She had to be taken by cancer.
I know the pain of losing a close family member to cancer. I wish you and your whole family my condolences. May her spirit live on in you.