When I was younger, about 13, I didn’t worry much. I worried about things that I don’t worry about now, things like trying to clean the dishes so I could play football outside. One of the things that I didn’t worry about when I was young, was the death of loved ones. That was until I was about fifteen.

When I was fifteen my old dog, Beary passed away. He was a German Shepherd-husky mix with one gray and one brown eye. He was about thirteen at the time. My brother was attempting to get him up to take a walk, but he wouldn’t get up. My mother drove him to the vet, but they couldn’t help him so he died. This had me worried about how suddenly someone else I cared about could die out of nowhere. I was worried about all my loved ones, but after a few months, I calmed down and thought of how unlikely it was.

But not long after that, we found out my grandmother had stage four brain cancer that had spread to her lungs. She was always kind and soft-spoken. My mother was very similar to her in this way.  My grandmother passed away in early 2021. I didn’t want to believe that she passed, even though I knew it was true. I told my family I was fine when I wasn’t. Then a month or two later, my grandfather passed away from COVID-19. Though he was a tough man who didn’t show his emotions often, he cared deeply for his family. Before my grandmother passed he spent as much time as he could with her. The loss of both grandparents devastated my family, especially my mother.

Tough as my mother was she took a while to recover. She was always trying to be positive, was always hopeful, and wanted the best out of everyone including herself and her children. This was stressful at times for me as I thought she always wanted more from me, but I see now she just wanted me to be the best I can.

My mother was diagnosed with lung cancer during a trip to the emergency room after being at a birthday party in early 2022. She told me it was nothing to worry about, but I couldn’t sleep for a few days until I convinced myself things would be fine. For a while, it seemed like that was the case. Then she had to go back to the hospital to have a tumor removed. After a few months of going in and out of the hospital my brother and I had to live at my father’s house. The last time I saw my mother looking healthy was when I visited her in the hospital on my sixteenth birthday. I had visited with my sister Emma and was nervous to see my mother because it had been a few months since the last time I saw her. She was happy to see us, we brought a birthday cake and candles that we were not allowed to light because of the hospital rules. We spent a few hours talking with her. I remember thinking that her room in the Massachusetts General Hospital had a nice view of the Charles River.

On August 4th, just about four weeks later, my brother and I went back home to my mother's house to be with her while she was in hospice. My mother had chosen to be in hospice. I remember waking up at 4 am to my sister telling me my mother  had passed and not wanting to believe it. I remember staying in my room trying to get over my mother's death by myself.

A few days later, my family and I had her funeral. After talking with my sisters I noticed how they helped each other through it. After that, I started to open up to my sisters and father and it helped me get through much more than I had alone. This led to me being more open about many things. It was hard at first, as my whole life I had kept everything to myself. But now this has led to me being less stressed, frustrated, and depressed. When I look back, I see how I’ve become more open with myself and my family and how that has improved my life.

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