My Mom's Final Days

        On June 29th, 2019 we lost the person I loved most in the world- my mother, Marilyn Isla Soriano. 

I will never forget the way my dad's voice broke when he told me the news. He's a strong, resilient man so hearing him cry or display any type of emotion was not something I was used to. 

We had spent the previous year watching my mom slowly decline from cancer. PNETS. Pancreatic Neuroendocrine Tumors- a rare type of cancer that I'd never even heard of.

2008 - A month before my parents told me about my mom's diagnosis. 

She had inexplicably lost a lot of weight during that time and that was what led her to go to the doctor.

Honestly though, as far as pancreatic cancers go, we got lucky. The prognosis is usually pretty bleak for anyone unfortunate enough to be diagnosed with it- but we got a whole decade with her after we found out, and she sure as hell lived her best life.

I spent as much time as I could with her when the treatments stopped working- I left my job in Vancouver and flew to Ontario and spent every minute that I could with her at hospice- when we said goodbye to the amazing doctors and nurses at Sunnybrook Palliative Care, they said that they had never seen a more dedicated family than ours. She was never alone and I love that. 

Being in hospice was so, so difficult for our family. We chose to go to Sunnybrook because they had given her the corner bed with a giant window, right next to the garden. They had ceramic painting classes which she loved so, so much- she spent a lot of her final days in the studio, making sure she left something for everybody. These are some of my most prized possessions. 

That's the kind of person my mom was- she was always so ridiculously kind and generous. So much so that I often worried that she would be taken advantage of- but she didn't care. She would give her last penny if it would help you out.

Her voice was soft and her English was shy- but once you got her in front of a microphone she's a downright karaoke queen. She was always trying to convince me to sing even though my sister had the better voice. In her final days at hospice, she sang as much as her body would allow her- it didn't sound like the mother I had grown up with, belting Mariah Carey or ABBA at the top of her lungs- but it was still my mom. 

She loved to eat a lot. Like, a lot a lot. I asked her what her favourite food was and she said 'everything'. I loved that she was absolutely unapologetic about it. A lot of her final meals were junk, but she had spent an entire year eating a vegan diet to try to starve the cancer that was slowly killing her- when it started succeeding, she sure as hell made sure that she ate anything and everything she wanted. 

Once, Richard drove home after spending the day with us and my mom literally called him to come back and bring her Burger King- what did my future husband do? He punched it into Google Maps, found the closest BK to the hospital and drove back. I think that's when she knew I found the right man.

She let me know every day that she was proud of me. That she was blessed to have me as a daughter and that  she loved me so, so much. I don't regret a single minute of time that I spent with her, no matter how difficult it was. 

My dad and I would switch shifts- he would be with her in the evenings and I would be with her during the day while he worked. It was a long drive from Mississauga to Sunnybrook, but it was worth it to see the look on her face every time the sun shone through those windows. 

Still, staying at hospice was terrifying- making friends was difficult because they would inevitably leave empty beds and it just served as a reminder that someday soon she would leave an empty bed too. 

When it finally happened, we were on our way to a big hike- Richard would later tell me that that was the day he was going to propose. 

All my mother ever wanted was to see her children thrive and succeed- she wanted grandkids so badly and had saved so much of my terrible art from my high school days so she could one day show her apo.

Before going back to Vancouver to recuperate a little bit emotionally and mentally, Richard took her by the hand and promised that he would marry me. She was so excited- she never did live to see us get actually engaged, but the bright smile on her face when he said that felt just like she was. I'm just so happy she knew where my life was headed. 

Honestly, I don't even know how to end this post because....well if I'm being truthful, the tears have been free flowing for a while now. It's still really difficult to talk about her and the loss we feel as a family. 

Grief is...a strange thing. It comes in waves- sometimes honestly when I least expect it. Sometimes when ABBA comes on the radio, sometimes when I catch a whiff of something that smells delicious, and sometimes the grief is expected; her birthday, Christmas especially, the anniversary of her death...and on those days, it's a bit more manageable. 

In any case I am proud of the pain I feel, I embrace every tear and every lump in my throat because it's just a reminder of how much I love her and how loved she made me feel. 

I don't know if I believe in the after life, but if there was one, I really, really hope one day to see her again.