Home—I think of this place as an area of sanctuary. It hasn’t always felt like that though. There was one day that I came home, and I didn’t feel warmth and love. That day changed my mother’s and my life forever.
When I came home from my dad’s every other weekend, I was always welcomed home with a good cooked meal made by my amazing mother. This day though, there was no smell of any food coming from the hall leading to our apartment. Another odd thing was that my grandparents’ were there, which doesn’t happen often. I walked inside the apartment, hearing the soft cries before I saw my mom’s and grandma’s tear.
“Come here, Ali. I have something to tell you,” my mom said, getting up from my grandma’s embrace.
Cancer—one word, but it means so much more. It is a disease, a sickness that takes on many forms, and my mother had it. I’ve heard of the word before, but who wouldn’t have at that time. The part that hit me was that it was happening to my mother, this woman who had been through so much and was the most supporting person in my life. I ran to my room and I cried until I felt like I couldn’t cry anymore, but then cried some more. I asked God why he would do this to me, to my mom, when she was the only stable thing in my life.
We moved in with my grandparents because I wouldn’t be able to take of her by myself when she got really sick. This story does have a happy ending even though there were some bumps in the road. I watched my mom fight so hard against this horrible thing called cancer. I am proud to say that she won her fight also. It has been more than five year since she was in remission, and because of that, she was pronounced as cured and a survivor. I am proud to call my mom my hero.