Amy Rafferty lives in Berwyn with her husband, Dave, and three kids. Here, Amy reflects on the last year she had with her mom, Verna, who suffered from brain cancer.
Honestly, Mother’s Day has never been one of my favorite holidays. As a child, it was the obligatory brunch or dinner out at a fancy restaurant. As a mother, it seemed like forcing the kids to do something that they would rather not do. For me, it has always been a Hallmark holiday—commercially driven to increase flower and card sales.
I remember asking my mom what she wanted for Mother’s Day and she would say, “I just want to spend time with you and your brother.” As we got older, that seemed like the hardest gift to give to her. Busy schedules, distances apart, our own families—couldn’t we just send flowers?
In March of 2015, my mom was diagnosed with primary brain cancer, glioblastoma multiforme (GBM, for short). This diagnosis dramatically changed the landscape of our lives in an instant. My mom was no longer able to live alone and moved in with my family. Unable to drive or manage the activities of daily living, she completely lost her independence. She didn’t really understand that she wouldn’t recover from this cancer because of her cognitive deficits, but we chose to look at the diagnosis as a gift instead of a burden. I knew that my time with her was finite, so I chose to live everyday like it was Mother’s Day. We let her choose how to spend her days and focused on being happy together.
I had a feeling that last Mother’s Day would be our last together. My mom was recovering from her second brain surgery at a rehabilitation hospital and wasn’t at the top of her game. We asked her what she wanted and, of course, her answer was to spend time with her family and to have turkey club sandwiches. My brother and his family came up from Georgia, and we all went to the rehab to spend the day with Nana.
It turned out to be the best Mother’s Day ever.
The weather was perfect, so we were able to take my mom outside and eat at a picnic table in the beautiful gardens. We took her for a walk and visited the koi pond and looked at the flowers. We brought all of the fixings to make the turkey club sandwiches, and she was in heaven! There was no fancy dress, no crowded restaurant, no overpriced mediocre food—just our family gathered around a picnic table. It was one of the many positive things that cancer gave to our family: Appreciation for the time you have with one another, no matter how much is left.
As I approach my first Mother’s Day without my mom, I am able to reflect with gratitude on the past year. My mom’s team of doctors at Penn’s Abramson Cancer Center gave us the best gift of all—time to spend with my mom. My gratitude for this gift is immeasurable. It was like 10 months of Mother’s Days. After she passed away on January 16, we were walking to our car at the Perelman Center and I stopped and looked around. I was overcome by an incredible feeling of thankfulness for Drs. Steven Brem, Et-tsu Chen, Arati Desai and Robert Lustig, as well as the countless other wonderful people involved in her care. The Abramson Cancer Center holds a special place in my heart and always will.
Happy Mother’s Day to everyone. And to my kids, I just want to spend some time with you.