I remember it well, that day, it would never be the same. My mother was the most amazing woman I have ever known, she was a goddess with long blonde hair and twinkly eyes. When I was a little girl I hoped I would become as beautiful as she was. But the night before her brain surgery, we had to do something I could never even think of before. We had to cut off her hair, and not just that.. they wanted to shave off all her hair! “No! No! Don’t do that to my mom, I mean.. can’t they just work around it?!”, were the only thoughts from my 11-year old self. Everyone was at the hospital to support her. My godmother braided my moms hair and brought pink scissors. I was staring at that pink object like it was the devil. This couldn’t really be happening. “Would you like to do it ‘Nonnie’?”, I hear a voice interrupting my thoughts. It was her, my mom, she wanted me to do it. I wanted to do it, but that moment I realized it was real. If it had to happen I wanted to be the one to pick up those diabolical pink scissors and get it over with. It was my way of coping, but that moment was one of the most difficult moments of my life so far. It hit me. This might be the last evening I have with her. They are going inside her brain, trying to take out a piece of the puzzle that doesn’t fit, making everything right again. What if it goes wrong? Will she recognize me in the morning? Will she even survive? While I cut off her hair I held my breath. Anxiously I looked at my mom. She was stunning as always and she smiled. She didn’t look sad at all, unlike all others in that room. She reassured me that everything was going to be fine, besides, there would be enough time to give her one more hug in the morning before they would take her away for surgery. I hear her say: “Isn’t this great! They are gonna make mommy better!” I looked at my father, trying to find certainty that she was going to be okay, but the look in his eyes didn’t match the smile on his face. I was afraid, and so was he.
There are everlasting loves that continue to exist after death do us part. I lost my always-loving mother when I was 12 years old to brain cancer. A battle we could not win. This is my voice, my story, from a child’s perspective.