I battled myself on whether or not to write an article about this. At first I thought it was because I just wanted to keep my articles up-beat and positive. Then I started to realize that I wanted to stay away from this topic because I didn't want to revisit it or type the words out. I have done so many times before-- talk about my mom and a little about my experience-- however I stayed away from telling the actual "story" to its full capacity.

To be honest I am a little nervous to type this up because it is something that I try to keep far in the back of my head. Although I know it will always be present, I attempt to do whatever I can to stay away from it. How could I not write about it though? I mean it's a pretty significant thing to happen to someone and I think I'm finally ready to share the whole story with you all, because I'm learning to face it head on and not be scared of talking about it anymore.

In early April of 2013 my mom was diagnosed with Uterine Cancer. It took a month for doctors to figure out what was going with her because she had been complaining about terrible cramps in her lower abdomen. Prior to her diagnosis I really felt like she would be fine. My mom was a drama queen about everything, but especially when she was sick or in pain of some sort. We all really thought she would be fine. She had gotten kidney stones and gallbladder stones before and we figured it was just another flare up.

Our family has had it's stories related to cancer. My Aunt and mom's sister died of Breast cancer and her husband of Pancreatic. Never did I think the "c word" would find it's way into MY home. I remember it clear as day, the day we were told that the doctors confirmed the diagnosis, we didn't know what to think. How? How could that be possible, OUR mom, there's no way. Well, there was apparently. I tried to stay positive not only for the sake of my family and younger sister, but my own sake. I forced myself into believing she would be okay every day-- every morning, every night. I really didn't have much else of a choice.

She started chemotherapy right away. The schedule was supposed to be 3 weeks on, 1 week rest which would be repeated 3 times for a total of three months. She made it to her first rest week and we were all hopeful, or at least trying to be. Chemo had really done it's worse on her. She barely ate, barely walked and barely talked. It was very very aggressive Chemo and made her very sick. One day into her first week of rest, in the middle of night I was woken up by my sister telling me that "mommy is going to the hospital". She never made it back home after that.

Have you every gotten flowers for you birthday or Valentine's day? I'm pretty certain we all have thrown them in a vase with water, maybe water it again once or twice and then we just forget about them. Slowly they start to wilt and wilt some more and more and more, until they're so brittle they fall apart with the slightest touch. Well imagine watching your mother do the same. Things got very bad once she was admitted to the hospital. She wasn't eating and she grew so weak that they didn't allow her to continue the Chemo treatments because they were afraid that they would kill her. She wasn't the fun, bubbly, smiling, upbeat Donna everyone knew, who I knew and it was very scary.

I tried though. I really did try to make the best out of it as crazy as it sounds. We were into May at this point and around her birthday May 25th. I bought balloons for her hospital room, crossword puzzles for her, coloring books, and even a ball to play catch with, she got a kick out of it and it was the most amazing feeling to see her smiling again. I'll never forget that day, because it was the last time I'd see her light up like that forever.

At this point in time I was spending every day in the hospital. My daily routine would be school, lacrosse, hospital, repeat and the weekends I was there all day. I brought my homework and would quietly do it next to her bed as she slept or watched TV. Never in all my life up until then did I think I'd be stuck in a room with my mom for hours upon hours and not here ONE word out her. She was the loudest person who loved to hear herself talk, but those days I was lucky to get a peep out of her. Her body was still there but Donna was missing.

I'm sitting here recalling all of these memories or trying to at least. Some of those days are so blurred because of how hard they were for me, how emotional and how scary. Soon it became scary to wake up because I never knew if it would be the day. At one point she didn't even know who I was, that's when morphine drips came along. She slept all day, literally. All we could do was be there with her and hold her hand. I would sit for hours just holding her hand or laying on her chest listening to her heart beat, like I used to always do when I had a bad day. Just sit down right next to her on the couch and lay my head on her, it was all I ever needed really.

On June 6th, 2013 I came home from school. My dad greeted me at the door, the lights were off in the house and it was really dark. Something was wrong. He sat my sister and I down in the living room and God bless his soul, told us "mommy only has week the doctors said". BOOM. My world crashed. I will never EVER forget that night. I will never ever forget the screams from my sister and from myself. The tear-stained face of my father, who grabbed us and held us so tight. I felt my heart literally break-- I couldn't breathe, I couldn't see, I couldn't move-- my heart, my world, my life, completely shattered. I held my sister so tight and repeated "I love you, I love you, I love you" a million times. Besides that all three of us barely spoke a word to each other all night and we didn't need to really.

I mean what do you do after that? Knowing that your mother only had a week left to live, what would you do?

My sister and I slept in my mom and dads room that night and cried ourselves to sleep. We were woken by my dad, at 7 AM, he just told us the hospital called and that we needed to get there soon. Not even 30 minutes later, the phone call came. In the morning of June 7th 2013, my sister, dad and I walked into the hospital in our pajamas and swollen faces to say our final goodbyes to our mom.

There are no words to explain the emotions and I really couldn't even if I tried. There is no way of describing how I felt. I was scared, worried, sad, angry, distraught, depressed, pissed, terrified, heart broken, and so many other emotions in one. I was confused. I just remember that I kept saying "What am I going to do now? How am I going to do this? I can't do this. I can't do this". I was broken, my sister was broken and my dad was absolutely shattered. My mom was my best friend and my person. She made me laugh, she was silly, she listened to me talk for hours and hours, she comforted me in ways no one, not even now, could do. She had it all and was an amazing mother to my sister and me. She was only sick for two months before she died. It came and then BOOM it was gone and it took her with it. I honestly can't even remember much of the days after that one. I was so numb, I didn't feel anything, I just felt like nothing. To this day, even i sit here writing this, with tears rolling down my cheeks, I don't know how I survived that feeling. I use the word "survive" too because it felt like I died with her. It felt like my whole world was on pause and I was just on the outside watching myself live. To me, at that time, my life was over, it was pointless and I felt like there was nothing for me to live for anymore.

I am not "healed" nor am I "over it" because I'll NEVER be either of those things, but somehow I made it this far. I made it 2 years without her being here, when in those first couple of months I really didn't see myself getting to this point at all. All I can do is remind myself daily that I am still living and God has a purpose for me. I am like my mom in so many ways and I LOVE that even more now. I want her to live on through me and my sister because we are the footprints she has left behind. I believe that that is what has kept me going. Now I'm living for me and HER because her life was cut so short. I really focused on the good I had in my life still: a home, a father who would stop the world for his girls, a not-so-baby baby sister who looks up to me, good friends and so much more. Every day I look for the light that keeps my world from going dark and it comes from all kinds of things like my loved ones and goals and dreams. It can get hard at times, oh believe me, but I think of my momma in those times and remind myself that everything I do is for her and it keeps me strong.