Pieces of blonde hair covered the pillowcase. I plucked them off one by one and threw them away. They still smelt like my Mother's shampoo. Which was pleasant, considering the rest of the house smelt like sickness and blood. Tubes attached to her wrist, connected to I.Vs that pumped drugs into her dying body.

Came home from school one day, it was favorable being in the fourth grade. Hardly any worries and I never second guessed what was going on. Never thought that she was only one heart beat away from dying with the angels. Although, I did have a dream that she was living in God's kingdom. He gladly opened the gates to her, and gave her a mirror that reflected the image of her beauty; but I was awoken. Everywhere we went there were stares, no one else knew the pain and the suffering. They didn't witness the tears at night, and all fears that she wouldn't make it out alive. Honestly, I was alarmed when I first saw her bald head. I look back at that moment and I feel so ashamed, I was embarrassed; but I still loved her more than anything.

"Wheres Daddy?" I asked, young and naive. Sitting with my sister in the waiting room, wondering why he never came. The nurse would call my Mother's name and I could see a fake smile stretched on her saddened face. Hospitals still make me sick, too many hours consumed in them, it was like a second home that I didn't want to subsist in.

One day my Mom was a woman. A curvy figure, hair and gorgeous. The next shes flat, bald, but beautiful, still. The battle was extensive and difficult, and cancer is known to win. Its so hard to sit in school knowing your Mom is battling demons and you can't help. You sing to her at night, and assure her it will be okay. For most kids, their Mom's were still taking care of them; but for us it was the other way around. Eventually, many months of radiation later; the evil cells corrupting her body were gone.

Its such a rude awakening when you go from dreaming of butterflies to imagining what hell is like. To question faith at such a young age, and struggling to find someone to assign the blame. Theres no comfort in an empty home, when the lights are out and you can't sleep because all you can hear is your Mother weep. You would think she was a widow, all those nights she spent alone, we rarely talk about it anymore. Finally, I am able to understand. I don't remember my thoughts when this situation occurred, but I did know sadness, I did know fear and I did know hurt.

I only hope to grow up as strong as her. It's hard to move along when you have two young kids, an absent Father and no strength to budge from the bed. The blonde hair on the pillowcase is just another memory of life when time stood still. Its been five years and shes in the clear, heads are looking up once again.