What I’ve learned over 47 days of knowing Cancer and 36 days without my mom

A good family can get you through anything. My brother, sister-in-law and I were already thick as thieves, but the extended family, all the aunts and uncles that have stepped up to help or even just been there for us is truly heartwarming and comforting. My grandmother has written every thank you letter, all two hundred-and-something of them… I didn’t even know you were supposed to write thank you letters. There’s a lot I didn’t know about what’s involved in a funeral.  Now I know too much.

 

Friends that act like family are gold. I can’t say enough about all of our friends who have reached out. I really can’t, there aren’t words to express the kind of appreciation you have for those who selflessly love you and are there for you in a time of need.

As hard as it is, be prepared for the worst and hope for the best. Tell your family your last wishes. For some reason this has always been something I’ve personally been very vocal about. And because of that I felt like I had an idea of what my mom wanted from previous conversations. I personally want to be cremated. I have no desire for my body to spend it’s eternity in an overpriced box. I realize this is important to some people, I’m just not one of them. Morgan has said she wants a leopard box with a purple bow. How perfect is that? I also don’t want people looking at me. Again, I realize this is something some people need, especially the older generation, but it’s not what I want. I want to be remembered how I was.

Don’t hesitate. Don’t put off going to the doctor for questionable pain. Don’t wait for doctors to call you. Don’t wait for anything. Be a pain in the ass! But then say thank you, and give hugs, and tell the staff how much you appreciate them. You only get one chance to beat this.

Write everything down. It gets really confusing which doctor said what and even what all the doctor’s names are. And when things are hard to hear not everyone hears the same things. Save yourself some arguing and write down everything that happens in a note book. You’ll be glad you had it later.  

Pray like there’s no tomorrow. Because there may not be. Many days I prayed “I don’t know what to pray for” but God knows your heart. I pray with Taytum every night when I put her to bed and know that mom is there with us. I look forward to the day when she’s old enough to pray about what she wants to. Brooks’ prayers are priceless and so innocent and so sweet. “Thank God for Gran, and milk, and muscles.” Yes Brooks, thank God for muscles! And sweet babies!

Cancer sucks! When all this started I think that was the best thing anyone could have told me. A friend of my mom’s hugged me tight and said “this just sucks.” And it’s so true.

Sometimes you just have to suck it up. People keep telling me I’m brave or strong. I feel just the opposite. Now that she’s gone I have no choice. I have to do things that no one else is going to do. Or I have to do the things that she did because she can’t do them now. She kept their house stocked with diapers and wipes. Those stocks are coming to an end. My daughter was nearly 6 months old before I personally had to buy her pajamas. Gran did that. Like magic she would appear with new pajamas right before they were needed. Were we spoiled or what? Spoiled with a great grandma, absolutely! But each of us knew exactly how great she was. And she knew we appreciated her. I have told the pajama story before. And a friend of the family showed up at the funeral with pajamas for Tay. If the tables were turned mom would have done that. And I know she’s watching all of us and appreciating all the kind things everyone has done to care for us.

Call the ones you love! Not being able to talk to someone you love is an ache that I’m not sure will ever go away. I talked to my mom on the phone ALL THE TIME. Sometimes I’d call with a purpose, sometimes not. And just wanting to talk to her, just because, is really the worst now. So often, I’m just a crazy person and talk to her anyway.

I don’t know why. Why her? Why so young? Why did she have to suffer? I don’t know why God choose to take her and he spares others. She was such an amazing grandmother and it pains me to think our children won’t have her in their lives. I know God has a reason, and that’s not comforting to me right now, but I’m not angry about it either.

I don’t really have a conclusion for this blog except that I’ve learned a lot of hard things in a very short amount of time. And I hope you don’t have to go through this any time soon but when you do, that I can be there for you.