Authors note: My main concept of this writing piece is to identify the character development which could lead into what happens later in the story. This story is in the perspective of a girl.
The year after my mother gave birth to me, I had received Neuroblastoma. This cancer disease is common for infants or children under five years old. It developed in my adrenal gland, and then eventually spread to my neck. My mom practically gave her life to me; staying home for two years, throwing away her dream to be a singer, and when my father left us as soon as he heard I was born, rather than thinking about how her life would be without him, she thought about how her life would be without me.
Years later, the Neuroblastoma completely perished and I was free of the cancer that had once lived in my body. Everything went back to normal after that, just my mom and I living in our little suburban house. All throughout the time I had my disease, my mom was there for me. She never left my side, or made me feel the slightest bit unhappy because I had everything I could ever want: someone caring and loving me through what I thought was the hardest time in my life. My mom had a way of making things feel as if everything was at peace in the world and there was no evil, even though I still believed there was.
As the years went by, I became less of a priority to her. She found a boyfriend, and ended up marrying him after 2 years of dating. Sometimes I wonder if her new boyfriend changed her because I could tell that she changed and we no longer had the deep connection that we used to. Sometimes I thought it was just me, starting to go into my teenage stage of not wanting to be considered as her baby girl anymore; but it wasn’t only me. We would fight more often, mostly about pointless things that don’t matter. Even though I still knew there was that person in her that I had once treasured with all of my heart.
When I reached the age of 14, I found out I had another case of cancer. Unlike the Neuroblastoma I had when I was a child, this was more severe. The doctors informed me that the type of cancer in my body was leukemia, and that it would be treatable, but couldn’t be cured. In this moment, my mother had not shed one tear. And right then, I knew my heart was broken; shattered into millions of pieces that could never be put back together. All I saw was a blank face, a face I had never seen before and could not read. Although, once we returned back to our house, I heard her crying in her bedroom; wailing out what I thought was the most dreadful sound I had ever heard. I sat outside her door, listening, but also thinking to myself about what will happen in the end. After a few minutes, I went inside and crawled in bed with her, not saying a word. We both sat there, thinking about numerous things. I didn’t feel bad for myself; I felt bad for my mom, which I know doesn’t make sense. She has been focusing on her life and less on mine for the past 5-10 years, but many superb things came from that and that’s why I feel like the scapegoat for the plans she had for her life that all went to waste.
Three months had already passed away and it was now the middle of December. I was sent to the hospital in the beginning of November, with bruises all over my body. My mom would come to visit me and we would spend hours laughing and talking as if our conversations could last a lifetime. It was a week and a half before Christmas, my favorite time of the year. I see my mother walk through the doors and my doctor pulled her aside before she entered my room. Her back was turned to me and I watched the doctor speak. By the gesture of his hands, I could tell he was talking with a calm, steady voice. In an instant, I see my mother’s head drop and her body gradually make its way towards the ground. The doctor knelt down beside her and whispered something to her, and she stood up. She turned to face me, her face as red as a cherry and tears flooding down her face. In that moment, I knew everything that the doctor told her was about me. They came in my room together, telling me the news they had just discussed. By the way my body was looking and by looking at the tests they did on me, I was going to die within a week. Not only was I completely distressed, but I had felt like I died that second. My mom slept over that night, crying with me most of the time, but also talking about the future because we didn’t want to think about the past.
The next morning, I didn’t wake up. Before the last month and a half, I thought the connection between my mom and I had vanished, but now I know it was always there. She never stopped loving me, even when she got a boyfriend and re-married. When I was in the hospital, she never left my side. Every day she told me how much she loved me and how much I meant to her. I know I will always remain a part of my mother’s heart.
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