The Best Last Day

When you hear the words, “your child has stage four cancer,” you want to fall apart, but
you have to stay strong for your kid. You don’t want to think about the fact that they could die at
any moment, but you have to balance your optimism with realism.
A couple months ago my sweet daughter was diagnosed with cancer. It was so aggressive
that it had already taken over most of her organs. She started chemotherapy and experimental
drugs. Since the cancer was already so aggressive, we had to be even more aggressive trying to
kill it. She was dying, and the hardest part was not knowing how much time we had left.
My name is Kenzie and I’m the mom of my fourteen year-old daughter Abby. Since my
husband left us when he found out I was pregnant, it’s always just been me and Abby. When
most people hear about our situation, they usually tell me how strong I am. They tell me they
can’t imagine being a single parent, because it must be so hard. I mean of course it has its
struggles, but I can’t imagine it any other way. I like it just being us.
The hospital became our home, and the “cancer team” became our family. Everyday had
its own battle. It seemed like for every step of progress she made, she took three steps
backwards. We were hopeful that the experimental drug would start working, and it did, it was
killing some of the cancer cells, but it was also killing her kidneys and liver. Everytime we found
something to fix one thing, it just made another problem with something else. There is nothing
harder than watching your child suffer like that. I wish more than anything, that I could trade her
places.
The next morning we had to get a CT to determine if the cancer had stopped spreading.
Every time she’s getting her CT, I wait there anxiously, just praying for good results. The nurse
came out with a look of dismay. I knew it was not a good sign. I felt my heart drop as I heard the
words “The cancer has spread to most parts of her body, there is nothing more we can do.” I
always knew that this was a possibility, I was preparing for this moment That’s the thing about
life, no matter how ready you think you are, you can never be truly ready for your child to die…
well not me, at least. As I fell apart in the nurse’s arms, I thought to myself, “You have to be
strong for her, you can do this, you don’t have any other choice.” I composed myself, then went
back into her room. I told her that we were going to get out of the hospital for a little while. She
was fourteen, she knew what was happening. She knew she was dying. She looked up at me,
smiled, and said “let’s go to the beach!” That’s exactly what we did, we drove to Huntington
Beach, our favorite. We spent the day soaking up the sun. It amazed me to see how happy and
“normal” life seemed. It was as if cancer had never rudely intruded into our lives.
We spent a few hours there, then we left to go get food. Abby had been unable to eat
solid food for a while, due to all the medications she was on. I let her pick whatever food she
wanted. She picked one of our favorite restaurants, Gina’s Pizza.
We had not had a “good” day for months. Today was a day I will remember for the rest
of my life. We arrived home at around 8:30. We had not been home for a long time and it felt so
good to finally walk into our house. I helped Abby shower, then I went to change myself. As I
was walking to my room I was suddenly overcome by a feeling of comfort. I knew that no matter
what happened, It was going to be okay.
We sat on the couch and watched one of our favorite movies, Pride and Prejudice. I sat
there with her in my arms, hoping that this moment would never end. I drifted off to sleep for a
little while, this was the first time I slept in days. I woke up to the end credits of the movie. I
tried to wake Abby up so she could go to her bed. When I tried to wake her up, she was
unresponsive. I immediately knew that she was gone. I held her in my arms, hoping that this was
all just a bad dream. I closed my eyes hoping when I opened them again, I would see her face. It
didn’t work, and I knew that she was gone. The day we had prepared for was here. For the first
time in fourteen years I wished that it was not just us, because now it was just me. I was forced
to live in this lonely world without her.
I don’t think anyone really knows how to move forward after your child has died. I
certainly didn’t. I was mad at the world for taking the only thing that truly mattered to me.
However, over time I was able to come to terms with what had happened. I knew that my girl
was in a better place, so I kept living, for her.