Remembering

On this Saturday, 25 years ago, my mom passed away.  I don't like to say she "succumbed" to breast cancer, because she fought that son-of-a-bitch every day for 8 years.  But eventually she just didn't have the strength left in her.  She didn't give up.  My mom never gave up.  She was a strong woman and I believe I get my strength from her.

I was 13 when my mom died.  Shortly after was when I stopped believing in the ways set forth in Catholicism.  I couldn't fathom a god who loved me so much to take my mom away when I needed her most, leaving me behind to take care of my brother and my father.  It didn't make sense.  Although my mom taught me everything I needed to know to survive in this world, it never made sense why I needed to know these things so young.  Ironically, I find myself teaching them to my two daughters because I know it will make them stronger.  My lovely other and I both believe these things to be true and we want to instill the power of choice, the power of responsibility and the power of love in our girls.

I remember thinking when I was about 15 years old that I could never imagine my mom being gone for 10 years... When I turned 26, I realized that she had been gone for twice the amount of years I had been alive! I remember at 34 when I had a small, fibrous mass in my breast, how ironic it was that I was the age my mom was misdiagnosed as having a benign mass in her breast.  And now, at 38, I am looking upon the 25 year anniversary of her passing.  I have a lot of memory loss within my adult years (no, it was not due to crazy partying or massive drug use, ha!), but no matter what, I remember that day crystal clear in my head.  Every moment.  Bits and pieces from the days before and sporadic events from the days following.  But that one afternoon is still as clear as day.

My future wife says I look just like my mom and that the older I get, the more I look like her.  I have her smile, and her eyes. I always felt so proud when people said I look like her.  I still am proud.  My cousin once told me that she would have supported me in my decisions to live the life I lead; to be the person I am; to express myself to the fullest.  I believe that. She always wanted only the best for my brother and I.  I have a journal she kept and I know it to be true. Maybe she knew deep down that she was growing an activist; someone who was destined to make a difference.  Maybe somehow she knew.

I wish I could have known her as an adult.  I use to miss the whole "growing up" thing, that relationship you cultivate between parent and child.  But now, I wish I had known her in my adult life.  I think it would have truly been amazing to have a conversation with her.  It would be a long conversation, maybe about parenting, maybe about politics.  And there would be laughter, because we both laugh alot...and loud. I always remember my mom smiling, laughing.  Even when she was in pain. I guess that is good.  It's those memories that keep me going.  Those are the ones that teach me to never give up.