When someone you love dies, there will always be a part of you that dies with them. For the eight months since my mom passed away I have done a lot of looking at that closed door that took her from me. A part of me went through that door, a light inside that made me the genuinely happy person I was. I have tried to spark that light inside me by forcing a smile to the stranger on the street, by extending an open hand of help to family and friends, but it all seemed fake. My friends can see the difference in my eyes. My husband can feel the sorrow in my heart. I wondered if I would ever learn to live with the loss of my mom weighing so heavily on me …
Having watched my mom suffer so tragically before she passed through that door of death I decided to do something to keep that door closed longer for other people. My sister, my father, and I began small talk of a memorial walk for my mom. In a few short months we made plans to raise money for melanoma at this walk and started getting family support. We got the permit for the Cape Cod Canal walking path. Then just this week the Melanoma Foundation of New England took on our once little project. We are out getting business sponsors, designing t-shirts, arranging pledges, and recruiting walkers.
I haven’t been this motivated and excited about something since my mom passed away. There is still a part of me on the other side of that door with my mom, but I am replacing that light with a fire inside me. There is something about making a difference that makes it feel as though death didn’t win.
