When I was thirteen years old years old I lost someone whom I never realized was so important and influential in my life until it was too late. On the morning of March 3, 2008 my step-mom Amanda lost her four year battle with Non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma.
My dad met Amanda when I was nine years old. I had resented her for stealing my dad from me and taking away all I had ever known, even if it wasn’t really her fault. Amanda was a strong willed woman who had just received her nursing degree and established herself in her new career, but that changed nothing for me. She wasn’t a bad person, but at nine, I don’t think I could realize that. For years we just kind of co-existed. There was no real connection besides my dad. So, when Amanda was diagnosed with cancer, I really didn’t know how to react. While everyone else was devastated, all I could think was: what did that have to do with me? How does that have any effect on me? I kind of blocked it out, I didn’t really care; it didn’t have any affect on me if she had cancer or not. But, it turns out I was wrong.
As Amanda grew even sicker every day, I had to watch my dad go through the pain of slowly losing her. Every time Amanda struggled through a treatment or didn’t feel good my dad seemed weaker and weaker. That changed me. It made me realize that not everything stays the same. It changed my whole attitude toward life. For the first time, the rock that kept me strong wasn’t there all the time. My dad wasn’t always there for me all the time. I learned how to appreciate the people and things I had, and the time I got to spend with my family. I realized that not everything was always about me and that the things I have might not always be here. The strength Amanda had while fighting cancer is an inspiration to me daily. Not only did she get up every morning with a smile on her face, she also never let herself relax. Even on her sickest days she was always doing something for someone else, or taking care of my dad and my brother.
The day my Dad and Amanda got married is a day I couldn’t ever forget even if I wanted to. That day, as they said “I do” Amanda looked so small and frail that it made me cry. A part of me knew, deep down, that this would be one of the last times I ever saw her. As I cried all of my anger and resentment I had built up over four years had kind of disappeared. I recall her face looking confused as she walked over to me and took my hands, looking me in the eye, “Are you crying because you’re happy or sad?” that was the most haunting question I had ever heard. Right then, in that moment was the first time I really accepted her. I hugged her for the first time and assured her it was because I was happy. The rest of that day was filled with food, laughs, and lots of pictures. I won’t ever be able to forget that.
In the weeks after the wedding, Amanda grew sicker. Her cancer was slowly taking over and we all knew it wouldn’t be much longer before she was gone. I could never explain accurately how losing Amanda affected my life. She taught me not to judge before I know someone, how to accept things the way they are, how to roll with the punches, and how to always keep a smile on my face in the toughest situations. I will never get to thank Amanda for helping to make me the person I am, but I like to think that she is somewhere close, and she knows that I think about her often, and she would be proud of me for how far I have gotten and how far I wish to go.