When I was six years old, my father called a family meeting. Thoughts rushed through my mind of what the reason for the summoning would be. A baby on the way? Am I in trouble? All the possibilities were cycling through my head, except one. Cancer. My mother had had cancer for as long as I could remember, but this time it felt different. “It has come back in your mother’s spine and hips,” my father spoke sensitively. “This kind is irreparable.” Sirens screamed through the dark night, as a cool breeze traveled through my hair. The eerie crescendo made its way up my childhood street. A stretcher crept up the dark wood stairs and entered my parents bedroom. My mother floated like an angel down, down, down. Her bones peeking through her skin, her eyes trying to smile. Then, they were gone. No more sirens, no more wind, no more mom. From this moment on, my life felt like a sliver of ice slowly melting away, always fearing when it would disappear beneath my feet. Anxiety filled my mind. My father began spending more time at work. At fourteen, my sister began scrambling to fill the shoes of a mother. It was chaos. The complexity of grief overwhelmed me. My father remarried a wonderful lady with a heart of gold. What was not to like? But I grew cold and resented her. My father could move on, but why couldn't I? The boulder of grief was growing; I was shrinking. I moved into a new home with new siblings, who weren't my blood, when the world shut down. I was alone every day and every night with the people I resented most. I grew restless. My fear of feeling stuck for the rest of my life grew stronger than the fear of loss. I was ready to start pushing the boulder. My stomach turned, my hands were sweaty, as I admitted to my father that therapy was needed to gain the strength to budge the rock in front of me. Acknowledge your feelings, have grace for yourself, and feel what is being felt. My therapist taught me how to allow myself to feel, and discipline allowed me to trust my emotions. My life turned from gray skies to blue and it felt as though the glasses of life were finally being cleaned. My words written on lined paper was my way of “getting my thoughts untangled” as my therapist said. Writing allowed me to see my thoughts and rearrange them to see the world from another perspective. My line of thinking was planned out right in front of me. I analyzed my thoughts and dissected them. Soon I could write about all the things I loved about every day. Disciplining myself to see the positive, working towards happiness. Life excites me, and my future gives me motivation. I transcend through life, enjoying every moment and learning all the lessons I can. Although my life has not been smooth sailing, I am grateful for all that has happened in my life. My mother’s cancer taking her away from me and my family, having to persevere through grief, and coming out on the other side better than ever has truly shaped me into who I am today. There will always be bittersweet emotions behind my story, but I tell it with confidence today because of what I have learned and how I've grown from the past. Learning from grief and the importance of the process has inspired me to be with others going through similar things.

When I was six years old, my father called a family meeting. Thoughts rushed through my mind of what the reason for the summoning would be. A baby on the way? Am I in trouble? All the possibilities were cycling through my head, except one. Cancer. My mother had had cancer for as long as I could remember, but this time it felt different. “It has come back in your mother’s spine and hips,” my father spoke sensitively. “This kind is irreparable.” Sirens screamed through the dark night, as a cool breeze traveled through my hair. The eerie crescendo made its way up my childhood street. A stretcher crept up the dark wood stairs and entered my parents bedroom. My mother floated like an angel down, down, down. Her bones peeking through her skin, her eyes trying to smile. Then, they were gone. No more sirens, no more wind, no more mom. From this moment on, my life felt like a sliver of ice slowly melting away, always fearing when it would disappear beneath my feet. Anxiety filled my mind. My father began spending more time at work. At fourteen, my sister began scrambling to fill the shoes of a mother. It was chaos. The complexity of grief overwhelmed me. My father remarried a wonderful lady with a heart of gold. What was not to like? But I grew cold and resented her. My father could move on, but why couldn't I? The boulder of grief was growing; I was shrinking. I moved into a new home with new siblings, who weren't my blood, when the world shut down. I was alone every day and every night with the people I resented most. I grew restless. My fear of feeling stuck for the rest of my life grew stronger than the fear of loss. I was ready to start pushing the boulder. My stomach turned, my hands were sweaty, as I admitted to my father that therapy was needed to gain the strength to budge the rock in front of me. Acknowledge your feelings, have grace for yourself, and feel what is being felt. My therapist taught me how to allow myself to feel, and discipline allowed me to trust my emotions. My life turned from gray skies to blue and it felt as though the glasses of life were finally being cleaned. My words written on lined paper was my way of “getting my thoughts untangled” as my therapist said. Writing allowed me to see my thoughts and rearrange them to see the world from another perspective. My line of thinking was planned out right in front of me. I analyzed my thoughts and dissected them. Soon I could write about all the things I loved about every day. Disciplining myself to see the positive, working towards happiness. Life excites me, and my future gives me motivation. I transcend through life, enjoying every moment and learning all the lessons I can. I am thrilled to use all that I have learned in my next stage of life, my strength to persevere through any troublesome time, soak in the good and the bad of everyday life, and most importantly have my family by my side through all of it.