Memoir

I remember my mom, Laura Jean Randall, going to the hospital being very ill. She left when I was at a friend's house. When I came home, the house was quiet. My sister, Emily, and My brother, Chris, were there, talking to each other about something. No site of Mom. Weird. I ended up thinking the worst of things.
"Maybe something happened. Like something really bad. Why is Emmy here? She's only here for really good things, or if something is wrong." I thought out loud quietly.
So after awhile they tell that Mom went to the hospital very sickly, and that Emily would be taking care of Chris and I. Soon after the day she left, we went to go visit my mom at the hospital. She tells us that the doctors think that she has pneumonia.
“What do you mean they think that you have pneumonia?” I asked Mom quite angrily.
“Well you know that they can only do so much to tell,” she said back a little to forced. I instantly felt bad about getting angry.
A few days later they moved my mother to the ICU (Intensive Care Unit) part of the hospital. The nurses do some scans and find out that it’s not breast cancer!
“That’s good! Very good!” Emmy said and for the first time in a long while my mom smiled. The nurses do another scan a couple days later, and turns out they misread and she does have breast cancer. Type four I believe they said. That’s the worst case.
I will never forget that time that she told us. I was sitting on the ground next to my brother and my mom was on the hospital chair.
“They re-did the tests, and I do have breast cancer… the worst kind.” My heart stopped. The world has just died. What are we going to do? We all broke out into tears. Hurtful sobs, wailing, and the cold, hard tiled floor was my best friend for an hour.
The doctors decided to insert a tube into her throat, to help her with breathing. With the tube being in she would have to be heavily sedated. That means that she would be non-responsive. She could still hear us, but not talk back. We spent the next week-in-a-half with my mom’s side of the family and my dad came. Why does some dying seem to be the only way to bring family together? Oh, well.
One day while at school, my mother’s co-worker, Chris, picked me and my brother from school for a visit to Mom. When we got there, my dad was smoking with a very blank expression.
He stomped it out. Came to me and said, “I’m sorry,” what’s happened, “your mother’s pass away…” Now the world has stopped turning, emotions stopped, I died right there. Then reality came and hit me right in the stomach, but it didn’t matter. My mom’s dead. I ran up the stairs to my mother’s room.
I was a dead body walking for the next week. It was the worst birthday ever. I was so angry at her for just dying. Just leaving Chris and I, but I realized that she’s better off like that. With whatever afterlife there is, if there is one.
My sister does those 3-day walks against breast cancer, and we support her doing that.