Skip to main content

See also:

Living With Cancer IX

Living With Cancer IX

My Mother fought cancer for 15 years but it was my Father moving out that broke her. It was two days after my 17th birthday. That Monday was one of the last full days I spent at Chamberlain High School for a long time. My Mom and I started the day off arguing. It was something silly, it usually was. I came home from school and my Father was up. My Father worked nights and he was never up at that time of the day. He had been busy that day. He had been packing up his truck with his belongings. I walked in from school complaining about Mom and not five minutes later he was telling me how he was going to move out and wanted to know if I wanted to come live with him.

Talk about dropping a bomb on me. I was floored. I thought at first he was joking, but sadly he was serious. You see Mom had just gone back to work from what would be her first leave of absence. Pop felt that it was a good time for him to run. I mean he had Mary to go lean on. Mary was the woman that my father had met some time before and was seeing on the side while my Mom was fighting cancer.

I told my Father I would have to think about it and would get back to him. He said I had about an hour before he told Mom and he would need to know by then. I was 17 years old, for God sake, and my Father had just thrown my life into hell.

Mother came home around 5:30 and by 5:35 she was hysterical. She came to my room and asked if I was going with him and I replied no. She then went to the front door and screamed my answer to my Father. She then threw her wedding band at him and slammed the door. I did not dare come out of my room. As time kept moving on I knew I had to go see what was happening.

My Mother was destroyed. It was sad but it was then that I knew it was all over. I knew she couldn't fight back from this and I was right. A year later she would be dead. If you are wondering why I jumped ahead this far in the story, it is because for some reason I have been thinking about this day. It has been eating at me as to how I would approach it. Even now some 35 years later it still rips me apart. Seeing it in black and white still doesn't heal the emotional wound. I have to admit this wound has never been completely cured. To this day I still hate it. I still don't want to deal with it You see it's the day I went to hell and it's been a long way back.