Is There Never Forgotten?

I asked my mom “what’s wrong,” she replied with a sorrowful “your Aunt Lisa is in trouble, we must leave now.” The worst part of all of this was my Aunt Lisa’s son was with us, Matthew. He did not know what to think or believe. No one knew the world would slowly start shattering beneath all of us that morning. We drove to her house, we saw ambulances and police cars driving by, that did not help our nerves at all. We finally arrived at her apartment, we never thought all of those emergency vehicles would be going there. My brother and I stay in the car since I was only eight and he was only eleven. My mom and cousin run into the apartment hoping to only find my Aunt had fallen and is unconscious, or she is passed out drunk, just let it be something that is not permanent. What they come to find is that my Aunt is laying on the floor, unconscious, but cold as ice. It was not from someone killing her, or us getting there too late. She had died twenty-four minutes before that phone

Cancer is a frightening topic, the National Cancer Institute states that “more women in America have died of [cancer] in the last two decades [than in WW1 and WW2 combined]”. It’s no wonder the word alone can bring anguish to many, there is still much we don’t understand about cancer. It wasn’t until recently that we began to noticed a trend of disease in my family. My grandmother Olga Losoya Suarez passed away in August of 2015 to colon cancer at the age of 75. As one can imagine this was devastating as she was the center of the family, always bringing everyone together on the holidays. Soon disaster struck again as my grandmother on my father’s side, Carolina Tovar, passed from pancreatic cancer in June of 2016 at the age of 71. Although most of the family felt a mixture of emotions, one that dominated the rest was concern. My parents, Aunts, and Uncles concerned that cancer was becoming more prominent in our family sought checkups from their doctors. My Aunt Linda informed

That day when I returned home from school, my mom’s boyfriend called me asking to speak to my grandmother. Typically, Gus would call my grandmother himself if he wanted to speak with her, which was rare. I found out about my mom going to the hospital from my grandmother after that phone call. The doctor told my family that a stroke afflicted her in the middle of the day. My mom confused the date with her birthday, had trouble getting words out and remembering our family member’s names. The nurse had to take her for walks periodically and exercise her legs and arms because they were weak. Seeing my mother in this condition made me appreciate my mother and everything she does for me tremendously. However, I was terrified for my mother’s health.

I walked away feeling like I was a complete failure and that I didn’t deserve to go on. On the way home my mother tried to talk to me, but, I put on my headphones and cried silently. Once we were home my father asked how it went. The tears that were in my eyes and they became more evident as my shoulders and chest were shaking and trembling. The only sound in the room was the sound of me crying and wailing. I started crumbling and falling to the ground and my mother and father rushed to my side. They held me until the tears came to a stop and a little bit afterwards

I went to my living room to ask my mom a question, to see she wasn’t there. I asked my brother “where’s mom?” and he replied with “shes at the hospital, grandpa got burnt.” I would never have expected “grandpa got burnt” to be as severe as it was. I remember my mom coming home around two in the morning. I got up and out of bed to ask some questions. She said “I don’t wanna talk about it right now. Pack some stuff up, we’re going to Waterloo tomorrow.” So I listened and packed up a bag.

An ambulance came and carried out my mom. I didn’t know what was going on, so many questions running through my mind, what was wrong with her, was she going to be ok. I was scared, more scared then I had ever been. My sister Sheridan who was 8 asked me “what’s happening?” through tears. On that day a little piece of me began to change because if I let her see my fear that would not help anyone, and so even though I didn’t know what was happening I responded “everything is going to be ok” even though I did not trust my own words.

After many chemotherapy sessions, it became clear that the chemo was truly killing her! Of course, when you are in a situation where your life is involved you begin to do any an everything that comes to mind to help the big problem. With that being said, granny flew to Houston Texas to the cancer center to begin a new type of chemo. Once she arrived in Houston she decided she no longer wanted to go through with chemo, she told us she believed that we needed to put it in the Lords hands and let him handle

Three weeks prior to the call, my grandma had just been diagnosed with stage 3 throat cancer on top of her already hard diagnosis of MS, otherwise known as multiple sclerosis. She was on so many pills for her MS that barely even helped het that it had taken a bit of convincing to even get her to agree to fight the cancer. She told everyone in the family that she was tired and it didn't help matters that she refused to

I knew from that point on everything was going to be okay and she was a fighter. After a few weeks of chemo she was able to go back home and take care of herself again. I didn’t want to bother her or make her tired so I tried not to ask as many questions or talk as much. On our last real morning together she woke me up and asked me, is it coffee for one or two? I smiled and said make it two I had a rough night. She laughed at me and said one it is and milk and honey for the youngest nurse I’ve ever had.as we always did we had our morning talk, but this talk was different. She told me, if anyone ever asks about me tell them my name was Ruth Mae Marks I was born a Simmons and I was a fighter. I raised all of my girls to be fighters just like me. I looked at her with a confused face as she smiled at me and said, my life was spent work all day until you came along and I had a reason to retire. She told me every morning I gave her something to live for just because she knew I would always be there waiting for her. I started to cry because I knew this was her good bye, she told me tears were made of salt and salt was made for cooking not running down your face. This was the morning I learned how to make red velvet cake and the last morning I got to talk with my grandmother. As much as I miss her I’m glad she’s at peace. Every day I spend my mornings talking to her in hopes that she hears me and I’m making her proud of me. She made me a fighter and a strong believer that I can overcome

In the year 1999, my father’s mother, Alice Louise Jackson, was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Pancreatic cancer destroys the body’s endocrine glands which secrete hormones. Life without a pancreas is impossible. My grandmother’s illness did not stop her from living her life. My parents tell me she devoted all of her time and energy to her family. In her final days, she spent endless hours showing her love and affection to my family and me. Alice hosted many family dinners and game nights to occupy her mind. In 2000, one year after being diagnosed with cancer, my grandmother lost her

“Mom? Mom are you ok?” I asked starting to cry. The front window was broken, but I don’t know why my mom didn’t answer me. Two men ran up to the car and pushed their faces against the window. I had no idea who these people were. I was full out crying and my mom wouldn’t talk.

Last summer my mom was diagnosed with stage IV esophageal cancer. It all started with her acting very oddly. She really hadn’t been herself, and I had told her that. She would just get mad at me though, and I’d try to forget about it.

My paternal grandmother was diagnosed with breast cancer when I was about twelve years old. After viewing the scans, the doctors determined a tumor resection would best the best course of action. After the tumor resection and several rounds of chemotherapy she was cancer-free for about 7 months before she had a relapse. She was diagnosed yet again with breast cancer, and it had come back more advanced and aggressive than before. My grandmother went through more rounds of chemotherapy, but it didn’t seem to help. Her next scans showed that the cancer had spread to her lungs and liver. The doctors then decided that there was nothing else they could do to stop the cancer from spreading to her other organs. Over time, the cancer also spread to her brain, which put her into a coma and made her dependent on a life support machine. After going into the coma the doctors told us that it was unlikely that she would wake up from the coma; so

It was May 17th, 2011, it was a normal school day when my brother and I were told that my mom called to say that she was picking us up early. I was anxious, wondering why we were going home early and breaking our usual routine. When my mom came to get us, the first thing that I noticed was that she didn’t greet us with her usual smile. I was 9 years old, very observant, but not able to sense what was to come. We got into the car, when I asked my mom where we were going hoping

Both my parents burst through the doors, looking slightly concerned. “Mehak, why are you screaming?” My mom questioned. My eyes started to get watery, thinking of all the terrible possibilities, and I got a feeling in my gut that something was wrong. “Grandpa... H-he...w-were t-talking a-and h-he started c-coughing a-and the l-line w-went d-dead.” I stuttered, not knowing what to think. My dad flew out of the room, probably to contact my grandma about what was going on.