Sebastian with his mom

If I remember correctly, my mom was diagnosed with colon cancer around 2016-2017. I had just started middle school, still a kid fresh out of elementary, and being told that your mom has cancer is something no child should ever have to face.

At first, it was overwhelming. Panic, fear, confusion. Honestly, I didn’t believe it was real. But my mom was different. She never gave up. She stayed hopeful, and I think it’s because she knew how deeply she was loved and how many people were standing by her, ready to support her no matter what.

There were moments where it was clearly hard for her, times when she felt like giving up, but she never let it show. She was always smiling, making jokes. That was just who she was. She had a way of making everyone around her feel seen, feel loved, and no matter the situation. She was known for that-her humor, her heart, and her spirit.

Chemotherapy took a toll on her. She’d come home and sleep for hours. But even then, she always found time for us-for me, my siblings, and my dad. Whether it was watching TV together or playing games, doing her best to keep life normal despite everything.

After about a year into her treatment, I was made to believe that things were finally getting better. I let myself believe that she was on the mend. But the truth was much harder-my dad had been told that she only had a few days left to live.

One day, more family and friends than usual gathered at our house. I was out in the neighborhood riding bikes with friends, trying to distract myself. I still thought things were getting better. I was young and naive, I didn’t know any better. Then my aunt called me over, she pulled me into a hug and told me my mom had passed away. I couldn’t believe it. I ran inside, desperate to see her. I pushed past my family when my uncle grabbed me before I could reach her room. He held me back as I screamed and fought to get through. He wrapped his arms around me as I cried and cried. Finally, when I was able to see her, she was just laying there peacefully. I still couldn’t believe it, I hugged and grabbed her hand but there was nothing, the world as I knew it had gone dark.

I cried for weeks. One of my best friends brought me to his house to stay over, to get away from everything, but nothing really helped. I felt an extreme sense of guilt. I kept thinking it was somehow my fault for not being able to stop it. I knew, deep down, that I was just a kid… but that guilt still stayed with me, eating me away.

With time though, I started to remember the good times. The laughter, the silly jokes she’d tell. The way she played with us, made us feel safe and loved, even when everything was falling apart.

That’s how I remember her now. The funniest, most kind-hearted, beautiful person I’ve ever known. She was the best mom I could have ever asked for, and even in the worst moments, she somehow managed to keep smiling, and made sure we were smiling too.

I’ll see her again one day. And until then, I know she’s still with me, in the little things. In the way the grass brushes against my legs when I sit in the park. In the lone cloud drifting through a clear sky. She’s everywhere. She always will be.

The most important thing I’ve learned is this: hold onto the happy moments. Carry them with you. Because as long as you keep your loved ones in your heart, they’re never truly gone.