by Kayla
September 24th. It is a day that will always weigh heavy on my heart. It is a day that I will not ever forget. This year marks 14 years. 14 years since I've seen her face. 14 years since I’ve heard her voice. 14 years since she has been here. It feels weird to think that with each passing year, she is gone longer and longer than I had her here with me. I was only lucky enough to have her by my side for 11 years, but they are years that I will never forget. For 11 short years I was lucky enough to have the best mom I could ever ask for.
Death is something that is difficult to understand as a child. In the months leading up to her death I remember my mom telling me that she was going to die, but I could not truly comprehend what it really meant. In my head, I knew what it meant for someone to die. I had gone through death with pets prior to her dying, but the concept was still so hard to accept. It never truly felt real. It never truly felt final. Like at any moment I was going to wake up and it would all be over. I can only compare it to watching a movie where you think the main character is dead, but at the last second they start gasping for air and suddenly everything is okay again. At 11, that is what my mind wanted me to believe. That it was all a big scene in a movie and the ending would be unexpected but happy. Unfortunately that is not how death is. The ending will always be the same no matter how hard you wish for it to change.
I can still remember September 24th, 2006 so clearly in my mind. My sister and I had spent the night at a friend’s house after going to a Hillsong concert the night before. At one point in time I had actually thought my mom was going to go with us. We bought the tickets months before her death and I was sure she would feel well enough to join us. I remember her being skeptical about attending as I begged her to buy a ticket for herself. Thinking back, she must have known her health was deteriorating. She went into hospice shortly after we bought the tickets and that is when her health really declined. The night of the concert, I remember getting ready to go. My sister and I were saying goodbye to her as she laid in her hospice bed on a ventilator. I was young and naïve so even seeing her deteriorated state didn’t send any warning bells in my head that something was seriously wrong. I remember being very excited for the concert and going to her, giving her a hug, and telling her that I was going to see a live band. She smiled at us and told us to have fun at the concert. Just seeing her smile at us was enough to reassure me that everything was alright. Like nothing bad was going to happen. Then, my sister and I went on our way.
The next morning we woke up at our friend’s house and noticed that her mom, Mrs. Tam, was gone. Mrs. Tam was actually my mom’s best friend. I thought it was odd, but never questioned why she had left. A few hours later she returned with my dad. I remember watching him walk through the door and my heart instantly stopped. Seeing him caused all the alarm bells to go off in my head because I knew something was terribly wrong. He took my sister and I into the dining room and sat us down. I remember looking into his eyes and seeing them welling up with tears. That is the first and last time I have ever seen my dad cry. Even as tears started to stream down his cheeks he spoke with such clarity. He remained calm and never broke eye contact as he spoke the words, “your mom passed away”. In my heart, I knew what he was going to tell us the moment he walked in the door, but hearing the words was something I could never have prepared myself for.
I realized later that the reason Mrs. Tam had left that morning was because my dad called her and told her my mom was dying. She left to go be with my mom in her final moments. Mrs. Tam later told my sister and I that she even painted my mom's nails so that she would look pretty as she entered heaven. I used to question why she didn’t wake us up to go with her. Why did she just let us sleep? Now that I am older I realize that she and my dad were probably trying to protect us. Death is very scary and I think they were trying to protect us from seeing our mom in a way that would frighten us. Looking back, I wish I had been able to say goodbye one final time. I wish I had been able to hold her hand or give her one final hug; however, I am grateful that they tried to shield my sister and I from something that would have potentially been a frightening memory.
After my dad told us that she had passed away, he asked if we wanted to go back to the house and say goodbye, but with only being 11, I was scared. Scared to see her not breathing. Scared to feel her cold hands. Scared that she was gone. I didn't want my last memory to be of her lying still on a bed. As much as it pains me to this day, I told him no and never had the chance to see her again. Reflecting on this, I have conflicting feelings. On one hand I am sad that I never saw her one final time. On the other hand, I am grateful that my last memory is of her smiling and telling my sister and I to go have fun at the concert.
So on this day, a day of sadness and sorrow, I want to reflect on our time together. I want to reflect on the happy memories that I have and keep her memory alive. Today, I think about her crazy obsession with gumballs. Like the ones in a gumball machine. We would buy them in huge packs from Costco (I’m pretty sure they were meant as machine refills) and keep them in a large Rubbermaid bin in the dining room. She would fill up a large soup bowl with them and proceed to chew each one for about 10 seconds until the flavor was gone and then get another one. Today, I think about how she was the pickiest eater in the entire world but would yell at my sister and I if we ever thought to turn our noses up at something. Yes, she was “that woman” in a restaurant. She was known to ask for French onion soup without onion pieces and one time she even sent back french fries at McDonald’s because they weren’t crispy enough. Today, I think about her love of Magnolia Blossom scented bubble bath from Bath and Body Works. In the months leading up to her death, I would run her a bath every night and sit with her as she played in the bubbles. Today, I smile as I think about all the wonderful times we shared.
Shit We’re Loving: EXPERIENCE
Kayla’s Pick: Road Trip
As I spend today reflecting on all the fun times I had with my mom, I wanted to pay a little tribute to her in my SWL. So many of the amazing memories that I have with her involve some sort of road trip. Growing up, she used to drag my sister and I on a month long road trip each summer to see family in Ohio, and every year we would take a different route so we could stop and see new sights. I’ve seen the world’s largest picnic basket in Newark, Ohio. I’ve taken a photo with the painted cars at the Cadillac Ranch in Amarillo, TX. I’ve slid down the dunes at White Sands on a plastic bag in New Mexico. I’ve ridden the Alpine Slides in Gatlinburg, TN. I’ve even picked out ornaments at Bronner’s CHRISTmas Wonderland (world’s largest Christmas store) in Frankenmuth, MI.
All of these memories hold a special place in my heart. When I was younger, I hated being gone all summer. I hated leaving my friends. I hated spending hours in a car. I hated always being gone for my birthday; however, on days like today, I cannot help but feel grateful that my mom dragged my sister and I away for the summer in a car. Seeing historic sites, listening to Harry Potter on book-on-tape, heck, even jamming out to Christian CD’s are just a few wonderful memories that I have from our road trips.
With everyone trying to social distance these days, there isn’t really much that you can do to get away. Taking a road trip, even just a short weekend one, may be a way to get out of the house and experience some things that you haven’t before. So, get on Google and search for those random roadside sites, download a killer playlist, and get out on the open road! As for me? I think the Eiffel tower in Paris (Texas) is calling my name.
Show Your Support: OCRA (Ovarian Cancer Research Alliance)
With each new month comes a new organization to spotlight. While I definitely haven’t been great about keeping up with donations, and my spotlight is pretty dim…I’m still trying! Working with organizations and, more importantly, donating my resources is extremely important to me, and as I move ATF forward, so will our donating practices. In the time being, the month of September is Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month, so we are supporting OCRA, the largest global nonprofit advancing ovarian cancer research while supporting women and their families.
Since 1998, OCRA has invested over $100M in ovarian cancer research and remains the only ovarian cancer-dedicated voice on Capitol Hill. OCRA isn’t just about raising money for research (though that definitely is a huge part); they also offer workshops and educational opportunities for healthcare providers to better inform themselves on this deadly disease. They have an annual conference where current patients and their families, survivors, and those left behind can convene to advocate for change in our healthcare system.
They want you to know the symptoms of ovarian cancer because while it is extremely present for some, it seems most others are unaware of it altogether. Check out this handy infographic I stole from their website! They also have a little quiz to test or refresh your knowledge on ovarian cancer. And remember, 1 in 78 people with ovaries will develop this cancer—so let’s all be informed!
Per usual, A Trust Fund has already donated $100 to OCRA in support of our fellow ovarian-carrying friends. If you want to donate, they are currently raising $200,000 specifically for Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month, and if you pledge over $75 (which we did!) you get access to their annual conference digitally for free!
Daily Intention
Today I will…
Reflect on the happy memories.
Here’s some nifty buttons for you to press, enjoy:
❤️