No Light at The End of the Tunnel

Here's my first Blog! A little insight into my initial stages of learning about my mother's cancer diagnosis.

It's been 2 years but I can still remember every detail of that day as clear as the still ocean ripple. I'm not sure which emotion I can let take me over, In fact I don't think I even know what emotions I am able to feel in this moment.

I remember coming home from school that day, tartishly slugging myself to the front door, dragging my bag by my shoes covered in mud and dirt. Ringing my doorbell, I was far from predicting the event that would take place in just a few minutes. As the door opened slowly I failed to look up and read my father's lifeless face, instead I pushed my way through the door dropping my bag down on the table as if it were a weight of unreal burden. Little did I know the true weight that would change our lives forever my father was carrying. I was just in middle school, a little girl just worried about her Science CBA's on Fridays and how many laps our Athletics teacher would make us run the next morning, but that changed in a matter of a few seconds. As I did everyday after school, I ran to the pantry holding my growling tummy rushing to find something to stuff in my mouth. As I was digging through all of the things I didn't find appealing, I felt a hand touch my shoulder. Turning around with a cookie in one hand and another stuffed in my face, I saw that same lifeless face of my father I acknowledged at the door. Although this time it felt more real, the blood shot eyes that spoke to me. No words were exchanged through these 30 seconds but I could understand that something was endearingly wrong. I didn't have to ask any questions, instead I wiped my mouth with the sleeve of my jacket and sat with my father in our living room sofa. "Amma has cancer", those were the only words he managed to get out without breaking out into tears. Cancer, a word that only ever meant a disease of malicious cells, now meant a lot more than just a google search definition.