The memory is so bright in my mind. It was ten ‘o’ clock on a Friday night. I was just another nine-year old sitting on my bed ripping off Barbie heads, and my grandfather walked in looking so……disturbed. He looked me in the eye and immediately my instincts told me something was wrong. He walked the short distance to my bed and said as gently as possible, that my mother had passed away. I don’t remember the exact words. Maybe shock made me forget? I don’t know. At that point all I could think of was the searing hole in my heart and the sobs that were racing up my throat. Something was keeping them from coming out. But I was glad. I didn’t want to break down right there in front of my grandfather. That would only hurt him more. So I got up to try to go to the bathroom, but I felt so, so faint. My heart was as heavy as a truck, and I didn’t feel I could do as much as blink. Somehow, with the comforting hand of my grandfather I got to the bathroom. I splashed cold water on my face, but just the gentle hit of the water felt like a punch from a wrestler. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to say. I stared blankly at my grandfather and he helped me back to my bed. I crept silently on the bed and tried to immerse myself in the warmth. I was still somehow controlling the sobs, but the tears were streaming down my cheeks. That night, I cried myself to sleep.

You’re probably wondering how it all started? Well, it actually started a long-long time ago. My mother had had cancer for three years already. I was only six when she found out. I was much too young to be told. The doctors had actually told her she had only 12 more months maximum, to live. But she survived. She survived 2 MORE YEARS only for me and my brother. When I compare her courage to my own I feel so ashamed. I could never fight such a monstrous disease. A disease so cruel, it could take a mother away from her children. But when I remember her courage I also feel pride. Pride and love, both. Sometimes I also try to imagine her position. She knew she would die. She knew she would be leaving her beloved family. Yet, she fought. She fought the doctor’s deadline and she fought the monster CANCER himself! But every time I think of this I only feel more blissful and proud.

Ofcourse I miss her. Everyone knows what an important element a mother is of her daughter’s life. But I do try to remember all the good things like everyone advices me to. I remember her smile, and her hugs. Her amazing cooking and warm scent. Sometimes I actually feel like I can’t remember and that I’m going to forget her! But I know that will never happen. I just love her too much.

There have also been some positive results. After she passed away I’ve become so incredibly close to my brother. I also share a bond with my father like no other. I know it is hard for him to play the role of two parents, and I know he is trying hard. The best part, though, is that my grandparents have moved in with us. Without them, there is no doubt we would not have been able to function. And every time I think of this I can only thank god. I thank him for giving me at least something to be so grateful for. I thank him for the bond between my brother, my father and me. And I thank him for helping me salvage some good memory of my mother and for making me realize how much she means to me!

Yes, there is a permanent hole in my heart. A hole that nothing and no one can repair. Yet I am ready to withstand the pain of this hole if I am promised more people to love and be loved by. People like my father, brother and grandparents. I say this because as my love for them grows my heart will grow as well. But the hole? The hole will stay the same size, and I will be brave enough to handle it. And now when I compare my courage to hers, I do feel proud. This time though, I feel pride and love for the both of us.