I’m gonna share something tonight.
When I came home from my language course last summer, the 19th of July, my Mom was sitting on my floor, crying. And she explained to me that her twin sister, my aunt, my godmother and our family-member L was ill. And that the Porvoo hospital though it was a rare kind of cancer. I remember calling her, crying and asking her if it was true.
Then followed a month of intensive tests and investigations. Some results said cancer, others didn’t. A lot of people in my family work in the hospital branch, including my parents, L and her wife. There was a huge anxiety among us, what was this and why was it so hard to diagnose?
The doctors came to the conclusion that they would have to do an operation, and if they found something, they would remove it. What they found was an inoperable cancer of a rare kind, almost impossible to discover. Chemotherapy started. Everyone started praying. My Mom took L’s job and she started staying home. Every night off we had, and every day too, was spent at her place. We were all hopeful, even when she started to lose hair. She had painkillers and we were all optimistic.
They planned for another operation in December. After months of treatments, sickness and frustration, they still couldn’t operate. The cancer had spread. Stronger treatments started. We all started to lose hope. L was probably the most optimistic. “I might die, but I not any time soon. I’m gonna stay here just as long as I can.”
An amazing person. Like my third parent. The greatest role model a little girl ever could have had. Caring and smart, and with a great sense of humor. And VERY stubborn.
Around new years, she stayed a few nights at a hospital, to drain ascites and what not. She had gotten worse in a short time. Drip, medicines and more tests. Funeralplanning. I didn’t see my mom a lot. We visited as often as we could. I drowned myself in work, because I couldn’t stand the sorrow at home. A few more visits at the hospital.
I visited her at home today. She was pale and skinnier then I’ve ever seen her. For the first time in these 6 months she actually looked sick. At school I wondered if I had enough pictures and videos of her. I started thinking about all the things I never had discussed with her, everything I wanted to ask. But when I turned up at her house today, I realised that that part of our lives was already gone. I cried by her bed and tried to talk to her. But what do you say, when words don’t mean anything?
A quarter after I left, my Godmother became my Guardian angel.
I will always love you. I will always remember you. I will always miss you. But this life is just not fair.
She loved this song just as much I do.