You couldn't just divide at a normal rate, could you?
You had to form that tumor, huh? And when you formed that tumor, you were curious and decided to migrate to other parts of the body?
You might think you were being funny, rebellious, whatever. You may not even realize the damage you have done, so let me inform you.
It was a wonderful day. A five-year-old me got off of the school bus and went inside my house to greet my Mommy and Daddy. Except my Mommy wasn't there. She was at the hospital because she had a bump on her boob. It turned out that bump was cancerous. However, that's not the only place you guys decided to hang out. You for some reason could not sit still and had to move to other places? You felt the need to damage my Mom's perfect body?
Well, mission accomplished. My angel of a Mother was diagnosed with stage four breast cancer.
I have a vision in my head of you guys laughing your heads off as I was wondering why my Mommy didn't have long, beautiful hair like all of the other moms did. Must have been funny to see me wonder why my Mommy didn't want to take me anywhere or schedule any play dates because she wanted to stay in bed. You laughter and humorous sights were short-lived, however, because chemotherapy took care of you guys. We did it. We got through it. Or so we thought.
You guys got bored. Again. "We'll go to a different place" and you did. My Mom shaved her head. Again. Our hopes were crushed. Again. And chemotherapy showed you who's boss and got rid of you guys. Again.
And, oh, wow! There you guys were! Oh how we've all missed you! Not.
"Yo, pass me the popcorn" said one of you as you saw my grades slip in school because I couldn't concentrate and I had a sinking feeling that something would go very wrong.
"Man, I'm thirsty, better go get some Pepsi" said one of you as you witnessed my Dad get the news from the doctors that my Mom had three weeks to live.
"Hey, are you recording this?" said one of you as you laughed at my Mom violently shaking her arms as she struggled to pick up her fork to eat food as she was lying in that hospital bed a couple weeks before the unthinkable happened.
Yeah, I bet you guys thought it was real hilarious to put my Mom through this for seven and a half years.
But you had your fill. On January 14th, 2011, to be exact. You ran out of laughs and decided to kill her. And since she was dead, this meant you were also dead. It was over for you. You did the damage. But guess what? It still isn't over for me. None of you heartless monsters lived to see the aftermath. You see, you didn't just kill my Mom, you killed a part of me too.
I've spent years wondering why this had to happen. I'm still wondering. Why her? She was the greatest person I knew. I will never forget her cackle. I will never forget her jokes. I will never forget her positive attitude and her number one mission to not worry me and to not think anything was wrong.
But you didn't care about that, did you? You took all of these wonderful qualities and you made them disappear. I will never hear her laugh again. She wasn't able to be there when I was crying about boys in high school. I won't be able to see my parents kiss before my Dad went off to work. Her voice has become a distant memory.
You also managed to kill a part of my Dad as well. Every single day he prays and asks God why this had to happen. He wonders if there is more that he could've done and wishes he had noticed that bump sooner. My Mom made him feel an emotion he had never felt before.
The wedding day, the first date where they both went skiing, the heartwarming day he found out he was having a baby girl, and the intense day of my Mom giving birth, since she wanted him in the room by her side. These are all significant days that my Dad will remember for a lifetime. She changed his life for the better. He loved this woman with all of his heart. He thought that once he was gone, it was going to be me and my Mom, getting through life and making memories.
Except, thanks to you, the other way around occurred, with my Dad being the significantly older one. I think you can do the math. I mean, you were able to commit homicide after all.
She never got to see me at my moving-up ceremony from eighth grade to freshman year. She never got to teach me how to drive, and she wasn't there when I passed my road test. She wasn't there to wish me good luck on my SATs. She wasn't there to see all of my pictures that I took on my senior trip to Disney World. She wasn't there to see me in my dress for prom. She wasn't there to see any of my plays in high school, even though I only got small parts and never got a lead role, I still wanted her there. She wasn't at my graduation, and wasn't able to laugh at the fact that I accidentally decorated my graduation cap backwards. She wasn't able to see how confused I was on where I was supposed to go when they called my name for me to receive my diploma. And finally, she didn't get to drive me to college on move-in day. My picture-perfect future was crushed, and you guys were the cause. You guys made it a goal to have my Mom miss all of the significant events that happened in my life.
Want to know the most upsetting part? You guys don't have any idea the pain I go through because of what you did. You guys didn't have a heart when you decided to ignore the checkpoints of mitosis. You guys lacked compassion when you decided to multiply. You made the wrong decision to not commit apoptosis (cell suicide) like you were supposed to. You defied the regulatory process of the cell cycle. You aren't slick. I learned this in general biology one last semester. So I close this open letter with one final sentence: I hope you got what you wanted.
