Your Grades Don’t Matter
Another support system that was beyond major was the beautiful and inspiring women I got to call my best friends and roommates. (Minus Kianna, she was just an honorary roommate). Their names are Kianna, Serina, and Jen. Jen grew to be my best friend, and the only person to look beyond the façade I had presented to the world after my mom died to ask, “Are you okay. Like, really okay”. No one had asked me this. No one had cracked the shell in the beginning to even think to ask this. That was exactly what I needed to hear. I still don’t know how she always knows what to say, meanwhile when she has issues I am maybe the worst due to my terrible awkwardness. During the end of the Spring semester, my college life was just as wild as my personal. I had dealt with being fraternity president and the problems that align, as well as saying goodbye to my comedy troupe I had spent my academic career in. Goodbye to my friends from college before I shipped off to LA in the Fall, and last moments to get drunk and pretend that my life was as normal as everyone else's.
I spent as much time as possible with Kianna, Serina, and Jen during the month of April as I had no idea what to expect when I arrived home the first week of May. They also stuck by my side in the best way they could. The weird part is I had no idea how bad the outcome of my mom would be, and neither did they, but they stuck by my side whenever I received news from home that was good or bad. Quite honestly I had no idea of the severity of my mom’s tumor(s) but there were two times in particular I realized this time might be more than what the first time presented itself to be.
I remember when I first told my comedy troupe about my mother’s recurrence. This was about the next day, and I cannot recall how (I think I called my dad in the meantime) but I deeply researching my mother’s form of terminal cancer; A Glioblastoma. I spent the whole rehearsal googling Glioblastomas and seeing that survival rates were 0%. I did not understand as my mother had this same type the first time and was nearly cured. When I told my troupe, one of the guys in the troupe said to me “I know of a Glioblastoma support group if you would like the information I can give it to you”. After our first bout with her cancer, a support group felt like way too much. I mean we were fine the first time, and it was a Glio then, wouldn’t it be the same now?
My mother called me to tell me she could not make my final comedy troupe show. She said she did not want to be around all the students if they possibly were sick. Quite honestly, after living on a college campus, the omnipresence of germs is very real so I did not blame her. She was however, very upset by the news. I then asked if we could live stream our show for my mother, and the troupe was beyond on board for that. Not only that, Molly (aforementioned Molly) wanted to dedicate the show to my mother and we collected donations at the show.
This was one of those moments of showing love without hugging or kissing. Having the show be dedicated to my mom was better than any hug I could have received. I still feel warm inside thinking about it.
I think of April as such a strange month for me. Since I was graduating a semester early and spending it in Los Angeles in the Fall I had also been given a lot of senior day treatment. Then again, I did not feel as though I was done with school. It all felt like a show. My mom being sick was no different. I felt like such an outsider when everything while whirling past me in April. I had to hand over my position as Fraternity president, and complete my finals, and go to class. I had zero idea what was happening but I was just being pushed along and told to take every day at a time having no idea what was about to come my way and just tell everyone I was a normal kid.
April 2018 was the shortest and longest month of my young 20-year-old life.
I do remember very clearly being sensitive to the way people spoke and treated me. I wasn’t even home with my mom and didn’t know the severity of how fast and serious the cancer was, but I just felt angry and tired all the time. I remember in particular I had a meeting with two members of the fraternity to talk about an incident (that may not have bothered me before my mom). I remember waiting for the two members and just looking out the window (again, like a stupid telenovella) and just cried. It is important to note I didn’t cry often before my mother. Now? I cry like a grieving italian grandma at a funeral.
I looked out the window and just thought, “My mom is going to die, and I am here”. Even when I was with my mom at home that summer, I still felt the same. Even now, while writing I feel the same, but rather “My mom died, and I am here”. It is the sense of ‘Can I do more’ ‘Will she be proud of me’ ‘Am I doing enough with the life I was given that was taken from her’ ‘is what I am doing right’. The reality is, we have no idea. Like I mentioned before, everything feels harder now, because we just don’t know.
After the meeting, I just felt like I was released. Later that day we decided a new president and I just felt like I could leave Boston finally and go home. It was funny that I valued my role as a Fraternity president more than my academics. In retrospect, none of it matters. I could have left the night I found out. Then again, if I went home before finishing my semester, I am pretty sure my mom would have killed me. So I got through my finals with all A’s not missing a class, and the day I could leave earliest I booked it home. No idea what for, but I did.
I want to also note that the A’s meant nothing. If you need to take time to yourself, take that time. Crying and taking care of you is not weak, it takes strength to do so and listen to yourself. I however, know myself, and needed to do that to at least bring one thing of peace into my shambling and confusing life. One thing in particular my Mom in her later time on this earth taught my brothers and I that it doesn’t matter. The grades, the work. Family, love, life, health, time is what actually matters. Now I am not saying to just dandy quit your job, but listen to yourself. Listen to others. You can make that money back, but you can’t get that time back.
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