It hurts to watch someone you love, cry because they know they’re dying. It hurts to hear them say

“Care for the others, not me because I’m already dying.” 

It’s hard to see an age old face, twist and wither, breaking down, and shedding tears that were once kept at bay for much too long. 

It’s even harder to see your Mom, hold everything back, and pretend that everything is alright.

It really isn’t.

Everything is no longer okay. Losing someone, someone you hold dear to your heart at the hands of Cancer is a very dreadful and long torture. You, and your loved ones try to remain strong, to not give up hope, but in reality death overcomes us all.

There were countless times, where I begged Cancer to take over my body instead. To take over my body, that still has the strength to fight it off. I want it to leave Grandma, for her body is already weakened.

I can’t save her. No matter what I do, no matter how strong I can be, I can’t save her. 

I have all of this strength, but I can’t save the ones that I love. What is my worth then?   

karmaplus:

“When I look up at the night sky, and I know that, yes, we are part of this Universe, we are in this Universe, but perhaps more important than both of those facts is that the Universe is in us. When I reflect on that fact, I look up—many people feel small, because they’re small and the Universe is big, but I feel big, because my atoms came from those stars.” - Neil DeGrasse Tyson [x]

Groans. Rattling. BANG.

We shot out of our beds at the speed of light, adrenaline pumping through our very veins like wildfire. I didn’t know what I was thinking at that time. It was more so of instinct, as it told me to run to the sole creator of such a noise. 

And then fear struck me. Fear of death, hurt, fear of sorrow. 

What rested before me was a site that no one should ever rest their eyes upon, not within any lifetime. 

There, sprawled out upon the hard wooden floor was Grandma, her weakened body helpless as her nimble fingers shook desperately in the darken room. Mom rushed by my side, and we lifted her up, only after rubbing the pain away from the back of her head and back. 

I wanted to make sure she was okay, I wanted her to be healthy again, to walk, to laugh, to live freely without a care in the world. I want to become a super hero, so I can heal her from this horrible illness. 

I hate cancer. I fucking hate cancer. I have said “Fuck you’s” so many times that I surely lost count. But I have a one unique “Fuck You” to Cancer. Fuck you cancer for slowly killing my Grandma. Fuck you for causing pain to a woman to cared so much for her four children, who remained strong when she lost her husband, who put up with her Grandchildren that treated her so rudely. Fuck you for causing the pain and fear in my mother, who constantly sacrifices herself everyday to put food on the family table. Fuck You.

After finally guiding Grandma back into her peaceful slumber, I held my Mother’s gaze. Fear, sorrow, exhaustion. She had so many chances to cry, but she never did. Not once. Not even when her and Dad drove off to buy the coffin for Grandma. I can’t even begin to imagine what Mom must be going through. To know that your Mother will leave this world in a few months, and to watch her life slowly ebb away as you make her final days be as comfortable as they can be. Mom is perhaps the greatest person I will ever know. And I truly mean that.