I am still very hesitant to say that I have become more religious after the devastating news of September 2010 and beyond. In the blink of an eye, life changes drastically for the one person that I think has been the most selfless and caring person to not just me, her only daughter, but to everyone I know. She has given all that she can and sometimes more. What I can say is that I have become more spiritual, more patient and more cognizant of appreciating small precious moments with those that I love.
There comes a time when you think "What did I do to deserve this?" and every now and then, in a moment of desperation, my mom asks this of me in regards to her diagnosis and all the complications that have come of it. A difficult question indeed, even though we both know cancer doesn't choose those who "deserve" it, it just happens.
I have always had an interesting connection to God. Growing up, my mother was a kind, practical and spiritual being and my father was a more devout religious person who was able to utilize the Catholic Church as a tool for spiritual growth. I grew up going to Catholic school my entire life from the formative years of elementary school to the more independent years at a Jesuit college. I have always liked a happy medium of my two parents' views. The news of my mom being sick shook my faith and even more so, required me to depend on the thoughts in my head of whether or not I was strong enough to be a support for my parents and even more so, myself.
With the reality of my mother's diagnosis, my father had a really hard time with this. He had just lost his own mother, with whom he was very close and this was too soon to lose another steadfast and strong woman in his life. As time has gone on, almost 17 months later, he has been able to become more strong in his faith and has raised all expectations of what is needed of him. My mother, on the other hand, has gone through every emotion towards God and the greater structure of a more exact plan in life. I think this is more understandable but somehow she has dealt with all of this with grace and poise. I'll never forget the time I visited my mom in March, when she was at the rehabilitation center after becoming handicapped. She was passing other patients in the hallway and ending conversations with "God Bless You" (no one had sneezed), it was uncharacteristic but was an interesting change to notice. She had been out of work for over six months and this was her way of regaining independence and finding worth in sharing these types of moments with other people. She has always been less concerned with talking about her own sickness and more concerned with hearing about other people's problems and ailments--no matter how much smaller scale they are in comparison. The rehabilitation center was more holistic for her than anything else--whether the staff there was aware or not.
When I was younger, my mom's favorite quote was from a movie starring Julia Roberts, called "Steel Magnolias". In the movie, her character makes a life-changing decision about her health which later leads to her untimely death, but she says "I'd rather have 10 minutes of wonderful than a lifetime of nothing special". Here's to 10 minutes plus in a lifetime.
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