I was five years old when my mother became diagnosed with breast cancer. My sister was twelve at the time, and knew nothing about what was going on. I was young and didn’t understand a thing at all. I went to her one day, and she had a brief idea, but not a whole lot. She started to research few days after I had asked her. Grandma and grandpa told her not to look to far into it, because mom wasn’t going to last long.
“Mia, what does grandma mean?” I had asked, as a young five year old would.
“Bronwyn, no worries. I’m not fully sure, but just keep your hopes up she fights it off.” sissy had this awkward feeling that they were only trying to put us at a scare.
She’d never really spent much time with me, because I wouldn’t let myself. Mom was my priority, I’d never let her leave my side, but I guess now I have to. She’s sick and grandma is trying to bother us. Why? I don’t know but its bothering. Mia doesn’t listen and sits all Friday night researching, all of Saturday, and Sunday, she thought we would spend time with my mother. I felt bad I didn’t want to visit her Saturday, just because she was sick, and Mia had researched, and was bothering her more.
Things in life have bothered me before, but I would have to say that this has bothered me most. Whenever I try and ask Mia a question about mom, she just pushes me away.
“Mia, why do you always push me away when I ask about mom? I’m little you know - I don’t understand everything just as you do.” I practically yelled at her because she wont listen. She just sits in he chair and cries, and writes poems and stories over, and over again. It doesn’t help either, when your dad leaves you three years ago. I never really got to know him, all I remember is mom and Aunt Kassie and Mia; ‘your just daddy’s little girl!’
What does it mean? I never cuddled with dad, he never read me stories like everyone else’s daddy did. I never tried to read him a story back.
A few years back to this day, I snuck into Mia’s room, I couldn’t read, but I found a few notes on her bedroom floor. I picked it up and kept it anyways. The note had read; ‘Bronwyn is daddy’s little girl. She talks like him, acts like him and does everything just as he would do. When daddy left me, I only had Bronwyn left, I couldn’t rely on mom, grandpa or grandma. Bronwyn is my only thing left. She’s daddy all over.’
I think I know what she meant I was daddy’s little girl now. I took his traits right off his back. But how? I never got to do anything with him, cause he gave the world everything, before he gave his own two daughters a hug and a kiss. As I thought about the note more, a few tears began to stream down my face. I thought of mom sitting in her hospital bed, alone, and nobody to talk to. I was really hoping that she’d become better and better each day. ‘It’s a long process’ I thought to myself, ‘It’s a long process.’
