My Mom’s Suffering Is Over: Reflecting On The Best Of Times, Worst Of Times

Before I get into this, let me say that this is more of a personal post, so if you’re simply here for travel content, please skip this post (though there’s a travel angle). I’ve been blogging for well over 17 years, and I’ve shared my highs and lows here. In recent years, Ford and I have had some highs, with the birth of our two healthy sons, who make us smile every day.

But unfortunately it’s time to share a (selfish) low. The day I’ve been dreading for well over six years is finally here — my mom’s battle with cancer came to an end early this morning, and all of her pain and suffering has been taken away. She outlived any expectation that we had when she first got her diagnosis, but that doesn’t make it any easier for those of us she left behind.

I’m happy for her. I know she has been looking forward to seeing my oldest brother (among others) in heaven, who she has missed dearly, since he died in an accident at a young age. But that doesn’t take away my pain, because it sure feels like a piece of me has gone with her…

My mom was a remarkable, one-of-a-kind woman

Before I even talk about my mom’s cancer battle, let me just talk a little about my mom. I was blessed with such an unconditionally loving and supportive mom. Perhaps what sums up my mom’s nature more than anything is her love for kids. 

She always told me that when she was younger, she wanted to have a dozen kids, and how nice it would be to have them all at the dinner table every night. She was always so loving, nurturing, and full of life. While Ford and I were excited when we had kids, I think my mom was even more excited. Her eyes just lit up when she saw them, and she could play with them for hours.

Despite my mom being significantly weakened due to her cancer, nothing could stop her from playing with them, and they brought her to life, and took away her pain. She had energy with them as if she wasn’t even sick. I’ll forever cherish the time they had together.

But that’s only the start of my mom’s traits. She was also generous and stubborn. Even though she didn’t necessarily have that much, she would give the shirt off her back to anyone who needed it. And speaking of stubbornness, goodness would we get into fights over who was allowed to pay for things. I like to treat my parents to things as a small way of giving back to them for what they did for me, but she would argue with me to no end, and only agree if she could pay for something herself.

“Can we go to XYZ to eat?” “Only if I can invite you,” she’d always say. What she forgot is that I got my stubbornness from her, so more often than not, I’d win. Like, if she visited us and we didn’t let her pay for something, she’d text me on the drive home saying “check in the drawer next to the bed,” or something.

She also had such a love for life. Even on some of her worst days, she’d still point out all the things that made her happy and that she was grateful for.

My mom’s six plus year ovarian battle cancer

I remember Mother’s Day 2019 like it was yesterday. The Thursday before Mother’s Day, I was in Savannah, and got a call from my mom that she was in the ER, because she had unbearable pain. She had been complaining of pain for some time, but despite multiple visits to doctors prior to that, no one could figure out what she had.

I immediately flew home, and by the time Sunday rolled around, she was diagnosed with advanced ovarian cancer. It was clear she had virtually no chance of complete remission, it was just a function of how long her life could be extended through chemotherapy and other treatments.

Our expectations were set pretty clearly, that she probably wouldn’t be around for long at all, and possibly had months to live. But she tried some aggressive treatments, and they managed to keep her alive longer than anyone had expected.

For a long time, she had good quality of life. She just had such a will to live. We never thought she’d live to meet our first son, let alone still be in his life when he was three years old. She was even around to meet our second son, and I know how much that meant to her (and us). In many ways, I think they helped motivate her to fight for so long.

I won’t bore you guys with all the details, but while her condition obviously continued to deteriorate over time, she had pretty good quality of life through 2024, on and off. Don’t get me wrong, it was an absolute roller coaster, since it’s not like things were consistent. On multiple occasions, she had been given a couple of months to live, only to then have another treatment work on her.

However, in 2024, she got to the point where she was weak and out of options, so she entered (at-home) hospice. My mom is a fighter, and she spent around a year in hospice. Even without any treatments, she still stuck around longer than anyone expected. I think that was largely motivated by hoping to meet our younger son, since she didn’t think she’d be around for his birth. My mom’s pain tolerance is on a completely different level, so while she had bad pain for a long time, it became unbearable in recent weeks.

Around two weeks ago I was talking to my mom on the phone, and she said “it’s my time, I can’t handle the pain anymore.” She had never said that before to me. I knew that day was coming, and I knew it was what was best for her, but I couldn’t help but just instantly have tears running down my face upon hearing that. At that point I knew her days were numbered.

Things deteriorated significantly over the weekend — she fell and broke her hip (as mentioned above, my mom was a stubborn person who never wanted to help from anyone, and she went to the bathroom alone at night, rather than asking for help), and had to be brought to the ER. It’s incredible how people know when it’s their time. In a way, it felt like she set her own timeline there.

My mom had the best time of her life in recent years

I am grateful beyond words that I’ve had as much time with my mom as I did. Many people lose their loved ones from one second to the next, and don’t even get to say goodbye. We were lucky enough to have so much time with her.

My mom always said that the best years of her life were since she was diagnosed with cancer. For one, something like cancer makes you so much more grateful to just be able to wake up every day and be alive, and she lived with that gratitude every single day. Whether it was something small, like enjoying a sunrise with a cup of coffee, or an ice cream, or something big, like a trip, she was always so grateful.

But second, we’ve also done everything we can to take her on as many trips as possible, and to have as many special moments as possible. You know the phrase “live every moment as if it’s your last?” That’s kind of how I tried to approach things, with respect to her.

So we took a countless number of trips with her, always thinking they’d be our last. I remember special trips to Big Sur, Hawaii, Greece, Germany, and so many more destinations.

I also can’t count the number of times that I’ve visited her. Miami to Tampa is my most flown route, and the reason I always flew that was to see her. I don’t know how many months I’ve collectively spent “living” with her, just enjoying each others’ company, playing cards, and more.

I’m so grateful that as she passes, I really don’t think I could’ve reasonably done more to make the most of our time. So there’s a joy in knowing that I did my best, and that I’m so blessed to have been able to say goodbye in this way, because so many people don’t have that opportunity. I’m also so lucky to have the flexibility to be able to work from anywhere and to have a supportive family (they made so many sacrifices as well), since most people wouldn’t have the ability to do that, and I don’t take it for granted.

The past six years have also been impossibly challenging

While I’m so grateful I’ve had so much time with my mom, I have to be honest — finding the right balance when you have a loved one with terminal cancer is so complicated. Back when my mom was first diagnosed, many people who had been in similar situations kindly reached out with advice. The advice was all over the place, but one thing was consistent — it’s not easy.

I just had such a hard time with this, because I’ve always been so close to my mom. Ultimately we’re all only on this earth for so long, so I suppose the clock is ticking for all of us. But if you have a terminal cancer diagnosis, that timeline is even more condensed.

Hindsight is of course 20/20, and if I had known my mom would be around for over six years, I might’ve planned things differently. But I always approached things as if the end was very near, because that’s what we thought. We never imagined she’d have as much time as she did.

There’s no denying that in the past several years, I’ve sort of lost myself a bit. Focusing on a sick relative is all-consuming. I’m not just talking about the actual amount of time spent with her, but even more the mental bandwidth it takes up. There probably hasn’t been a waking hour since my mom became sick that I didn’t think about my limited time left with her.

And honestly, this takes a toll on other aspects of life. It’s tough on relationships, friendships, etc., because you put other things on the back burner, but when this lasts from your late 20s to your mid 30s, that’s a big chunk of life. Since my mom was diagnosed, I haven’t planned a single trip that far in advance, since I always assumed the end would be near.

I’m really sorry for the people I’ve failed and let down in recent years, because I’ve just felt so overwhelmed and distracted by this situation. Hopefully I can start a new chapter, and can go back to being a bit more focused on other things. While my mom’s cancer diagnosis feels like it was yesterday, the concept of living life without thinking about her cancer also feels foreign, and like it’s from a different life. 

Saying goodbye was worse than I could’ve expected

Given how much lead time we’ve had, I thought I was mentally prepared for my mom’s passing. I think I did everything I could, she had several incredible and unforgettable years, and she said she was ready to go. What more could anyone ask for?

In my head, I can’t count the number of times I played out how the end would go. I didn’t want to think about it, but I couldn’t help myself. Selfishly, I dreaded losing her. But no matter how hard I tried, or how bad I made it out in my head, I wasn’t prepared.

I’ve spent the entire week with her leading up to her passing, first at a hospital, then in an ambulance, and then in a hospice facility. I even slept on the couch next to her at hospice, and I think I collectively slept maybe 15 minutes last night, as I just listened to her breathing, as she came down from her terminal restlessness.

Nightmare doesn’t even begin to describe what it’s like to watch someone suffer and then pass in this way. It’s just so unbelievably painful, and the phases go from bad to worse. If there’s any silver lining, she passed in peace, and now her suffering is over.

Give your loved ones a hug, be kind, and take that trip

I haven’t even started processing how I feel, so I’m hardly in a position to give anyone advice (at least as of now) on how to deal with losing a loved one. However, I do have a few things to say.

First, give your loved ones an extra hug, and tell them you love them. If you’ve been thinking about taking a trip and/or spending quality time with a loved one, take that trip, and spend quality time with them. You won’t regret it (well, don’t be irresponsible, but other than that…) — you’re much more likely to regret the things that you didn’t do than the things you did do.

Second, there’s so much suffering in the world, so we really need to all be better at being kind to one another. I feel like I’ve just gone through a complete nightmare, but this is something that so many people have to deal with.

I’ve lost people before, but not like this. As much as my mother died too young, at least it was me saying goodbye to her, and not the other way around (as she had to say goodbye to my oldest brother). And I’m so lucky, because so many people have been in so much worse situations. The suffering out there is endless, so always show compassion and kindness when you can.

Lastly, the past several years have made me so incredibly grateful for any day where I can wake up and just be healthy, spend time with those I love, etc. Our society largely idolizes things like money, power, and fame, when in reality, none of that matters. What matters is having good health (as much as possible), spending quality time with loved ones, doing something for other people, and having the blessing of waking up every day and being able to live another day. 

Bottom line

My mom’s long battle with cancer is finally over. She’s now finally in peace and pain free, so the only people who are suffering are those of us she left behind. Thanks for letting me share this here, because this is therapeutic for me (which is why I’m getting this up so quickly).

Honestly, I feel so heartbroken, lost, and confused. I’m sure I’m going to go through a roller coaster of emotions over the coming days, weeks, months, and years, but I at least find comfort in knowing that my mom’s suffering is over.

A huge part of my life has been taken away from me, at least in flesh. But my mom’s amazing spirit and the things she taught me will always stick with me. I also feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders, and I hope I can put that into other things in life that matter, including being at least half as good of a parent to my kids as my mom was to me.

PS: As an update to this post, thanks to everyone for their incredibly kind comments. I don’t deserve them, but I do appreciate them, even if they’re only making me cry even more. There’s comfort in that, so thank you. And to those sharing their stories of suffering, loss, and illness, please know that you’re in my thoughts as well.