My Mom. My Hero.
My Mom. My Hero.
Growing up I was always closer to my father than I was to my mother. People said it was because I was the youngest and therefore I was considered daddy’s little girl. That was partially the reason, but there was more to it than just that. It was mainly because my dad was such a sensitive and caring person, just like me. That does not mean that I love him the most but that I relate to him in a way that I can’t relate to my mother. My mother has always been the strict one in the house, which has caused me to always bump heads with her; however, that has not stopped me from admiring how strong and hardworking she has been for us.
My mom has not only had a difficult childhood, but she has also had a difficult life overall. When she was a child her father left them and did not bother helping them with money. Consequently, my mother would have to work from extremely hot to freezing cold days in order to help her mom support them. In fact, until this day my mom hates ponchos because she says that it was the only piece of clothing she could afford to wear in the cold weather. Years later, her father came back a “changed” man but that didn’t mean my mother was going to forgive him right away. She always blamed him for all the trouble they had to go through while he was away. She did not forgive him completely until he was diagnosed with prostate cancer and did not have much time left to live. It hurt her to see her father dead but not as much as it hurt her seeing her mom dying six years before this. My grandmother fought against cancer for two years, but she lost her battle on July 14, 2005, exactly one week after her birthday. It didn’t end there for our family. On December of 2011, my father was diagnosed with stage four kidney cancer and passed away three months later on March 30th of 2012. That’s the one death that hurt my mom the most. The thought of losing the partner that she was supposed to be with the rest of her life seemed so unreal.
Growing up I was always closer to my father than I was to my mother. People said it was because I was the youngest and therefore I was considered daddy’s little girl. That was partially the reason, but there was more to it than just that. It was mainly because my dad was such a sensitive and caring person, just like me. That does not mean that I love him the most but that I relate to him in a way that I can’t relate to my mother. My mother has always been the strict one in the house, which has caused me to always bump heads with her; however, that has not stopped me from admiring how strong and hardworking she has been for us.
My mom has not only had a difficult childhood, but she has also had a difficult life overall. When she was a child her father left them and did not bother helping them with money. Consequently, my mother would have to work from extremely hot to freezing cold days in order to help her mom support them. In fact, until this day my mom hates ponchos because she says that it was the only piece of clothing she could afford to wear in the cold weather. Years later, her father came back a “changed” man but that didn’t mean my mother was going to forgive him right away. She always blamed him for all the trouble they had to go through while he was away. She did not forgive him completely until he was diagnosed with prostate cancer and did not have much time left to live. It hurt her to see her father dead but not as much as it hurt her seeing her mom dying six years before this. My grandmother fought against cancer for two years, but she lost her battle on July 14, 2005, exactly one week after her birthday. It didn’t end there for our family. On December of 2011, my father was diagnosed with stage four kidney cancer and passed away three months later on March 30th of 2012. That’s the one death that hurt my mom the most. The thought of losing the partner that she was supposed to be with the rest of her life seemed so unreal.