On October 28, 2019, the day science finally explained your new reality: cancer in one of your lungs. I can imagine the anxiety and panic that must have overwhelmed you in the blink of an eye—I know you all too well, Mom.
On October 30, 2019, the diagnosis became clear: your cancer is stage 4, inoperable, with at most two years to live.
On October 31, 2019, the day we all found comfort in each other—me, you, and my brother—as we talked and shared positive thoughts.
Mom, be strong—first and foremost for yourself, but also for all of us. We’ll be just as strong for ourselves and for you in return.
Try as hard as you can to live in the moment and savor every little pleasure in life. Keep laughing, going out, and taking care of yourself.
I’ll admit, Mom, that I have a knot in my stomach. I’m very positive about what’s to come, but I’m having a hard time managing my emotions and imagining the next steps.
It all seems so unreal—it’s like I’m in denial sometimes; I have a hard time believing this is happening to us.
Mom, the chemotherapy is going to work well—it’s going to put the thing that’s poisoning your body to sleep. No, it won’t cure you, as the experts say, but it will give you more time with us.
Yes, my brother and I don’t live around the corner from you anymore, or even in the same city as you. But rest assured, we’re here for you, 100% committed to your new daily life.
Stop feeling guilty; stop thinking you’re becoming a burden. That’s completely untrue—please don’t hide anything from us about how your health is progressing; for goodness’ sake, be honest with your children.
Let’s live in the moment—the laughter, the activities, the good times of today. Every day will be a new opportunity to take care of yourself; every day will be a chance to smile again.