Broken Wings

When I was nine, my mom died. The battle with cancer was a short one, as doctors discover the terminal illness infecting her brain when it was already too late. Stage 4 when they found that wretched disease.

At the time, I didn’t know a lot about cancer. I knew it killed you and I knew my mom had it. After moving in with my aunt and uncle, I almost forgot about the situation.

Soon after she died, all these memories of our time together started flowing in my brain like a tsunami. Times of happiness and sadness, and some still pop up when I think of her.

One example is her favorite Disney character: Tinkerbell. When I was little, my mom would drive me to Disneyland every Friday. It was our tradition. I would always talk about how much I loved Cinderella, as she was my favorite princess, and she would tell me about Tinkerbell. How she was sassy and sometimes grumpy. “Just like me,” she’d say. I would always burst out in laughter when she said that.

After she died, I didn’t go to Disneyland until this year. Four years later and it virtually hasn’t changed. No new rides, the same atmosphere.

It was hard going back there, especially with my friends. All I wanted was to have fun and not miss her too much. The day went alright, I missed her and it put a damper on my mood, but I decided to honor her.

I went to the Disney store, originally to get a present for my friend, and then I saw it. A Tinkerbell key chain. Almost seconds after I saw it, I bought it.

When I got back to school, I put it on my backpack so she’d be with me all the time. Whenever I see it, I smile. It reminds me of my mom and how much I loved her. Since Disneyland, one of the wings broke.

But I like it.

To me, it shows that my mother was flawed. She wasn’t some goddess, she made mistakes and sometimes it’s hard to realize that when you miss someone. You glorify the memory of them, and not see the true person.

So, as much as I miss my mom, I know she’s somewhere watching over me, with a broken wing.

 

 

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