My mom died of metastatic cancer on November 28, 2017.
It was sudden and unexpected. At least for me.
I think she had known for a while (based on journals that I found) that things were “off” but she didn’t tell anyone. She didn’t go to the doctor. She lived life on her terms, up until the very end, watching my daughter’s last soccer game of the season just 3 weeks before she died.
As hard as it was for me to lose her so unexpectedly, I find comfort in the fact that the end did happen quickly.
A look back…
On November 2, 2017, she called me and asked me to meet her in my driveway for a chat. (This kind of request always put me on edge because these ‘chats’ were generally life-altering in some way.) So, I knew she had something major to talk about.
She confided in me about all the health issues she had going on right at that moment. Inability to breathe well, a persistent cough that just wasn’t going away, swelling in her leg, weird lumps and bumps under her skin in various places, no appetite, and various other things; some of which had been going on for 4 years.
It was a lot to hear and a lot to handle. I could tell she was worried, but was optimistic and ready to do whatever it took to turn things around.
The problem was that it was too late.
Her body was already done.
I watched her quickly age 20 years in 2 weeks. It seemed like I was no longer talking to my mom, but to my grandmother. The whole month of November I watched her body deteriorate to a point that she finally conceded going to the hospital on November 20th. I even watched her lose the motivation to live. Her “life energy” was incrementally leaving her body, day by day.
At the hospital, they ran test after test on her and concluded that “cancer was everywhere” and she didn’t have much time left. They said there really wasn’t a place in her body that was free of cancer. They couldn’t believe she wasn’t in more pain. (Thank God.)
After Thanksgiving, our whole family went to her hospital room and had a beautiful time with her. She was coherent, engaging, and funny.
Then she declined rapidly after that. Five days later, she passed away.
I take comfort knowing where she is.
She loved Jesus and was encountering life on the other side as she was transitioning into the heavenly realm (she kept talking about it, which was interesting!).
She was only 72 years old. And, when she died, a huge hole was left in our lives. I talked to her every day, multiple times a day. She would pick my kids up from school, plan amazing birthday parties, babysit whenever needed, and lived just around the corner.
She was my best friend.
Learning to live without her has been a major adjustment. It still seems very surreal.
The thing is, her health problems didn’t start in November 2017. Cancer doesn’t “just happen”. It develops over time.
My mom struggled with health and weight for as long as I can remember. It was a constant battle and I know that she felt like a prisoner in her own body. There was a psychological and behavioral root to this battle that she never could quite figure out.
Her health and body didn’t allow her to participate in life fully. She watched from the sidelines. She was VERY involved in her kids’ lives and her grandkids’ lives, but it was mostly passive involvement. Watching from her van. I know she would have loved to have been more actively involved, but her health prevented it.
I’m sharing this story with you because I believe she would have wanted me to. I want to honor her legacy by supporting YOU as you reclaim your health.
Your health should no longer hold you back from doing the things you want to do in life. You should feel comfortable and confident in your body and it should support you powerfully each day. Your energy level should carry you through from morning until night.
God needs the healthiest version of YOU so you can do what He put you on this planet to do.
I want you to enjoy your kids and grandkids for a very long time.
It starts with the decision to turn off autopilot and be a conscious creator of your health. Your body, mind, and spirit should work together in this creation process.
You can do this. One step at a time. Progress, not perfection.
CLICK HERE for the memorial I wrote for my mom. I would love to share it with you.
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