This is a story about a girl who lost her mother to cancer. She was 16, her mother was 46. This happened some twenty-over years ago.
This story is about me.
One of the reasons I wanted to start writing and putting my imperfect choices of words and strings of sentences out here was prompted by an article I read 2 years ago. Written by a teenager, it was her account of going through life with her cancer-stricken mother.
Little girls losing their mums in their young and formative years suffer beyond the initial grief of losing a parent. There’s a void when we go through puberty, boy drama, graduation, work life, wedding, marriage, pregnancy, child birth, postpartum, parenting and I believe, till forever more.
There are many teenagers who are going through the same frightful, dark and lonely journey – the hospital treatments, the caretaking and the ultimate unknown. I wish to share about what I went through in the hope that it’ll help some young people journey through the difficult days, months and years of having to watch a loved one battle through a life-threatening illness.
It’ll be written in the form of short stories, snippets of whatever memories I still have in 3 main timeline – life before my mother had cancer, the years battling cancer together with her and life now (for me) after she’s off to a better place.
Yay or nay? Truth be told, I am very apprehensive in posting this up. Fearful, even, of putting my vulnerabilities out here and of the possible misconception that I am doing all this out of self-pity, going on and on like a broken record.
What are your thoughts?