In Which I Say Goodbye To My Mother

May She Rest In Peace

Donna Etchinson-Marrs

Yesterday around noon my mother finally succumbed to terminal cancer. She was 78.

My mom had been battling cancer since I was about 7 or 8 years old and, frankly, I was half expecting and mentally bracing myself to the idea that she wasn’t going to live to see my 18th birthday.

But, miraculously, she persisted and I had wondered if she might have been indestructible.

Having someone you love being handed a terminal diagnosis is a lot like being told that there’s this large asteroid, it’s headed right for Earth, you can look up in the sky and see it looming larger and larger everyday and that there’s nothing for it but to wait for the asteroid to strike.

She will be missed and I am grateful for the time that was given to us both.