The crisp refreshing autumn air, the musty scent from crushed leaves and the contrasted golden and green trees generally brings to the forefront of my mind the time in my life for which I would be changed forever. My naïve 15 year old self would never be the same. I've never really had the opportunity to share this moment in my life with that many people. I never thought that I really should. I hate having people feel sorry for me; in fact, it is not a sorrowful thing to me. I've grown through this and I am grateful for what I am left with: love and memories
Only one person existed whom I could tell my problems to and just let my heart pour out like a cascading waterfall: it was my mom. In the autumnal months, especially with hefty appetites (must be from our bodies needing to fatten up for the winter) baking sweets was a necessity for my mom and I. In our snug baking area the heartwarming scents of delicate sweet strawberries tingling with powdered sugar or chocolate chips melting upon saccharine cookie dough could thaw away any bitterness.
March 2005. I remember my mom calling all of us to the living room to talk. “This is just a family meeting to tell my brother and me to do our chores the right way,” I anticipated. “BJ, Katie,” my mom spoke. “I just wanted to let you know that I love you two VERY much. God is with us all the time and He’s still with us now. Today I went to the doctor… and they told me that I have breast cancer.” I froze. I couldn’t move. She told us how they had caught it early and that it would be an easy process. At that point, I started laughing awkwardly in confusion. I had no idea how to respond. My little brother probably didn’t understand either. He was six years old and understood that she was sick and needed medicine. I knew that cancer was a horrible disease that attacked the body, and sometimes victims of it did not survive. I went to my room and broke down. I couldn’t talk to my mom and pour my heart out about it, I just couldn’t this time. 
Here and there, my mother would have to go in for chemotherapy treatments and one of the types of food that helped her recover, while enduring an achy body and a metallic tang due to chemo, was sweets. In all honesty, sugary sweets made our whole family feel better and more relaxed. Just a morsel of this indulgent substance could melt away worries as it slowly trickled down the throat. Cooking together, as we made chocolate covered pretzels and gingersnap cookies, allowed for a deeper type of healing; a type of healing that brought us together as it healed our emotions. Mixing, melting, and making may have helped in the actual suspension of the cancer because the cancer started to dissipate and things were looking better after eight long months. There were very few “spots” with cancer. Life started getting back to normal. Normal for us was not having to worry about my mom.
January 2006, it returned. This time called Inflammatory Breast Cancer. This kind of cancer was stubborn and my mom needed a specific and new type of treatment that would be tried out for one of the first times on my mom. In order for this treatment to instigate, she would have to stay in Houston, Texas for about six months. As her young teenage daughter, who was going to be stuck with my dad and younger brother, I didn’t want her to go. I missed my mom so much and all the cooking that we didn’t get to do in-between. For us, cooking was a way to connect. My dad knew how to cook, but cooking together as mother and daughter has a different sort of meaning. It means girl talk and my dad couldn’t offer that bond. My mom and I talked every night on the phone and she told me about her day in Houston and I told her about my day at school and about some of the struggles that I had dealt with that day. She missed my first dance (8th grade social), but I knew that she was still thinking about me, while at the same time, flushing her body of the awful cancer.
Every day after school, my best friend Allison and I walked to the elementary school from the middle school to pick up our younger siblings. One day, as we were about to find a spot to sit down Allison stopped. “Hey Katie, is that your mom?” she asked. I looked closely and replied, “No, she’s in Houston, remember?” I took one more glace to make sure that it really wasn’t her because I had thoughts and hallucinations that she was there sometimes. Then I quickly glimpsed once more and saw that it really was my mom. I ran to her, so full of joy and excitement, and gave her the biggest hugs that I had ever given.
My mom was not back from Houston because her treatments were finished, she had come back early because the treatment had some problems. I did not know this at the time and I didn't question my mom's presence back at home. I was absolutely thrilled to have her back.
May 2007. The cancer gradually took a hold of my mom, but did not take a hold of her faith. The next few months my mother continued to visit the hospital for her treatments. She eventually had to spend weeks at a time in the hospital as the cancer continued to grow. During the holidays though, and every time that autumn would roll around, we whipped out the cookie dough and chocolate foods and other sweets. One of the sweets that we made and that I continue to make every year is Chocolate Coconut Squares. The Coconut Squares in particular are made each year because of the sweet crispy coconut shreads and the indulgent half-melted chocolate chips. Eventually this sugary delight became our favorite recipe during the fall.
Near the end of her life my mom requested for her loved ones certain and special gifts to remind us of her. For my gift, my mom’s friends went about remodeling my room and my mom “hooked me up” with her best friend’s son, who I had a major crush on at the time, to go to freshman homecoming together. She also requested to each of us that we would celebrate her life and not mourn her death. I do so every year around these months of autumn, especially since October is Breast Cancer Awareness month, and near the end of her earthly life (September 26th, 2007) through making the Chocolate Coconut Squares to remember the good times, not the sad times, of love and memories that will never be forgotten.
Only one person existed whom I could tell my problems to and just let my heart pour out like a cascading waterfall: it was my mom. In the autumnal months, especially with hefty appetites (must be from our bodies needing to fatten up for the winter) baking sweets was a necessity for my mom and I. In our snug baking area the heartwarming scents of delicate sweet strawberries tingling with powdered sugar or chocolate chips melting upon saccharine cookie dough could thaw away any bitterness.
March 2005. I remember my mom calling all of us to the living room to talk. “This is just a family meeting to tell my brother and me to do our chores the right way,” I anticipated. “BJ, Katie,” my mom spoke. “I just wanted to let you know that I love you two VERY much. God is with us all the time and He’s still with us now. Today I went to the doctor… and they told me that I have breast cancer.” I froze. I couldn’t move. She told us how they had caught it early and that it would be an easy process. At that point, I started laughing awkwardly in confusion. I had no idea how to respond. My little brother probably didn’t understand either. He was six years old and understood that she was sick and needed medicine. I knew that cancer was a horrible disease that attacked the body, and sometimes victims of it did not survive. I went to my room and broke down. I couldn’t talk to my mom and pour my heart out about it, I just couldn’t this time. 
Here and there, my mother would have to go in for chemotherapy treatments and one of the types of food that helped her recover, while enduring an achy body and a metallic tang due to chemo, was sweets. In all honesty, sugary sweets made our whole family feel better and more relaxed. Just a morsel of this indulgent substance could melt away worries as it slowly trickled down the throat. Cooking together, as we made chocolate covered pretzels and gingersnap cookies, allowed for a deeper type of healing; a type of healing that brought us together as it healed our emotions. Mixing, melting, and making may have helped in the actual suspension of the cancer because the cancer started to dissipate and things were looking better after eight long months. There were very few “spots” with cancer. Life started getting back to normal. Normal for us was not having to worry about my mom.January 2006, it returned. This time called Inflammatory Breast Cancer. This kind of cancer was stubborn and my mom needed a specific and new type of treatment that would be tried out for one of the first times on my mom. In order for this treatment to instigate, she would have to stay in Houston, Texas for about six months. As her young teenage daughter, who was going to be stuck with my dad and younger brother, I didn’t want her to go. I missed my mom so much and all the cooking that we didn’t get to do in-between. For us, cooking was a way to connect. My dad knew how to cook, but cooking together as mother and daughter has a different sort of meaning. It means girl talk and my dad couldn’t offer that bond. My mom and I talked every night on the phone and she told me about her day in Houston and I told her about my day at school and about some of the struggles that I had dealt with that day. She missed my first dance (8th grade social), but I knew that she was still thinking about me, while at the same time, flushing her body of the awful cancer.
Every day after school, my best friend Allison and I walked to the elementary school from the middle school to pick up our younger siblings. One day, as we were about to find a spot to sit down Allison stopped. “Hey Katie, is that your mom?” she asked. I looked closely and replied, “No, she’s in Houston, remember?” I took one more glace to make sure that it really wasn’t her because I had thoughts and hallucinations that she was there sometimes. Then I quickly glimpsed once more and saw that it really was my mom. I ran to her, so full of joy and excitement, and gave her the biggest hugs that I had ever given.
My mom was not back from Houston because her treatments were finished, she had come back early because the treatment had some problems. I did not know this at the time and I didn't question my mom's presence back at home. I was absolutely thrilled to have her back.
May 2007. The cancer gradually took a hold of my mom, but did not take a hold of her faith. The next few months my mother continued to visit the hospital for her treatments. She eventually had to spend weeks at a time in the hospital as the cancer continued to grow. During the holidays though, and every time that autumn would roll around, we whipped out the cookie dough and chocolate foods and other sweets. One of the sweets that we made and that I continue to make every year is Chocolate Coconut Squares. The Coconut Squares in particular are made each year because of the sweet crispy coconut shreads and the indulgent half-melted chocolate chips. Eventually this sugary delight became our favorite recipe during the fall.
Near the end of her life my mom requested for her loved ones certain and special gifts to remind us of her. For my gift, my mom’s friends went about remodeling my room and my mom “hooked me up” with her best friend’s son, who I had a major crush on at the time, to go to freshman homecoming together. She also requested to each of us that we would celebrate her life and not mourn her death. I do so every year around these months of autumn, especially since October is Breast Cancer Awareness month, and near the end of her earthly life (September 26th, 2007) through making the Chocolate Coconut Squares to remember the good times, not the sad times, of love and memories that will never be forgotten.
this is an amazing essay it kept my attention all the way through and nice word choice
ReplyDeleteVery nice essay, thank you for sharing something so personal.
ReplyDelete