And Still I Stand
My family means the world to me. I have some really happy memories of my young life but also some really bad ones. I had started working at age 15. It was automatic for me to help my mom pay the bills in the house since I saw first hand what she struggled with raising four of us. She worked when she could and was on welfare when she couldn’t. My siblings and I grew apart as we got older. When I turned 18 I decided to move out with some co-workers because I couldn’t take the arguing between my mother, my two brothers and one sister anymore. That was during my last year of high school. That was one of the worst years in my life. Since my birthday was in February, and my friends were planning the move in April, I had plenty of time to save what I needed while working at a Burger King in Newark, NJ.
My mother had been sick off and on for years. She was a typical strong black woman back then who kept everything to herself and dealt with everything by herself. We had no idea how bad it was. Well, before I moved out she started getting sick again. If anyone came to the door or called we were instructed to tell them that she was unavailable. When I moved out in April she began doing the same thing to me. But I’m her daughter and I knew something was up. I had been working for a while now and struggling to finish school. I thought I was grown now. I was going to school during the day, or at least trying to and working at night. Most times I wasn’t getting off work until about 2 in the morning and then I had to be in school around 8:15 am. Needless to say I missed a lot of days. One afternoon I decided to stop by to visit my mom unannounced. When I she opened the door I almost fell over. Now my mother was not big but she was a healthy size woman. The thin person that stood before me had to be about 60 to 80 pounds lighter and she had this growth on her face. She tried to cover it with her usual homemade bandage but it was falling apart and soaked. I knew at this point that her health was much more serious than she had lead us to believe.
I gathered for her what I could and my 18-year-old self took my 49-year-old mother to the hospital. The doctor came and talked to me after the professionals attended to her. I was told that she had cancer. It was called melanoma to be exact. I had her admitted with hopes that this would turn out to be a positive thing because we’re supposed to be able to take care of our parents when we get older aren’t we? Well being the strong, proud and stubborn woman that she was, she signed herself out of the hospital days later. I went to visit her after school and thought the worst when I saw her bed was freshly made up and all her belongings were gone. When I spoke with the doctor he told me that she had signed herself out and left all of her medicine. He then proceeded to tell me that he was sorry but it was only a matter of time before her demise and if she had done something sooner they could have prevented her loss of life. What!? He went on to tell me that if I could get her to return that it was possible that they could prolong her life through medicine. Unfortunately, my mother refused to go back or take any more meds.
Soon after that, while trying to manage my grades, keep my job, apartment and tend to my mother, she got worse real quick. One of her sisters stopped by to check on her because they hadn’t seen or heard from her in a long while. My aunt said she found my mother lying on the floor and unresponsive. She brought her right back to the hospital. Little did I know it would be her last visit.
I was loosing it. There was little help from my siblings. My oldest brother had been sent to live with his father at age 16 a couple towns away. Next was my 19-year-old sister who’d just started college and claimed to be “busy”. Then there was our 10-year-old brother who had been mostly raising himself for almost a year now and me. I missed a lot of school between taking care of my mother and the stress. There were days when I couldn’t even get out of bed. I’d be sick to my stomach and just wasn’t even thinking about venturing outside. Soon enough it caught up to me. The school board informed me that due to my countless absences, I would not be graduating with my class. I was given the option of appealing the decision and after realizing that I did not want to come home for the rest of my life smelling like burgers, I took it.
I thought to myself right before the meeting, how did I go from an A and B student usually on the honor roll to this? During the meeting I couldn’t control my emotions. I had intended to just give them some information to try and sway them over to my side, but it all came out almost at once. Something in me made me tell these strangers in suits with nice cars and homes that I had been helping taking care of my mother and family since age 15. God was holding my hand that day. After a short deliberation, they called me back in the room and agreed that if I complete a few classes during the summer than I would be able to receive my diploma. The only catch was that I would not be able to walk with my class. I only had a couple friends because I worked all the time and was too down during the day to make any impression on anyone to even think about me as friend material.
The summer was just as rough for me as the first half of the year. It just all ran together for me with little enjoyment. I had about two weeks off when school ended and then I had to go right back to school during the day and work at night. I was exhausted all the time. Somehow I managed to visit my mom in the hospital too. It was weird seeing her shrink down in size right in front of my eyes. When I moved out I feel like our relationship was improving but now it’s deteriorating. The growth that once only sat on a small spot below her right eye now covered the entire right side of her face. After only a few weeks she didn’t even respond to visitors. It was like you weren’t even there and she didn’t know who you were.
I finished school in August and then a month later received a call from the doctor at about 11pm. I used to beg my boyfriend to call out of work because I was afraid to be alone. He would protest and then be out the door. On this particular day my plight was stronger. I was determined for some reason to not let him leave. I won because he gave in and called out of work. Well when the phone rang I could barely move. We had just gotten ready for bed but something would not let me rest completely. When I picked the phone up it felt like it was one hundred pounds. The doctor asked for me. I let him know it was me and then he spoke. I caught the words quickly. I even think we said them in unison. After letting out the loudest scream I ever let out in my life even to this date, I fell to the floor. My boyfriend came out of the bedroom to help me. He finished the call with the doctor for me and as I tried so desperately hard to collect myself. It all came back after I had to start making calls to the family and there was only one phone call I managed to make. It was to the father of my oldest brother. I guess I always felt close to him because he would take care of us like we were all his kids. When we spoke I felt the pain in his voice as well and it made me even more upset. Why couldn’t I fix this? I was supposed to be the strong and street-smart one. What happened to me? Needless to say, I could not go on. I gave him the phone number to one of my aunts and told him that they would be able to finish notifying the rest of the family.
The funeral was the last time we saw our mother’s side of the family. They all blamed us for the death of our mother and treated us like strangers from then on. Not one hand was extended to my siblings or me. We barely talked to each other.
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I’m still working on my first non-fiction novel. Please be patient for updates on the completion of this story. I can also be found at my other sites setting fire to my keyboard at;
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This version of my biography is not meant to insult or hurt anyone. It is intended to educate on the loss of a loved one through the eyes of a young girl. I have many stories to tell. Please leave a comment or ask to become friends on Facebook. I desire your feedback.
God Bless You All !
Laura T.
