Alicia D'Aguiar
Loss of mom, Sandy, to Ovarian Cancer
Hi Alicia! Tell us, what’s your story?
My name is Alicia and I'm 38 years old, from Toronto, Canada. I was raised in a pretty nuclear family, loving, married parents, a younger sister and brother, and our family dog. My parents were both scientists and incredibly hard working. Growing up, they were strict but fair, and we never went without. My brother was into competitive hockey and my sister and I were competitive Irish dancers. We traveled all around attending various dance competitions with my mother driving whatever giant van we had at the time. It was a pretty great childhood.
I went to university, got a degree in communications, and then settled into working life. I met my husband while I was in Barbados on vacation 10 years ago with my mom (we're those people) and we've been together ever since. Five years ago we got married, and last fall we welcomed our son Felix into our crazy little family. I work in the not-for-profit sector and my husband is an architect. We live in a big city and we absolutely love it. We spend our weekends exploring new neighbourhoods, hitting new restaurants, and hanging out with friends. I'm from a smaller city and my husband is from the Carribean, we definitely grew up in opposite worlds but we enjoy the multiculturalism that Toronto offers and we want our son to experience everything that big city living has to offer.
You told me that you lost your mom to cancer - can you share a little bit about her diagnosis and her experience with cancer?
So my mum actually had cancer twice. She was first diagnosed with non-hodgkin's lymphoma in the fall of 2016. We were told this was a "disease to be cured" - and basically it was. She had some rough chemo, lost her hair, and ended up needing a stem cell transplant. But by Christmas 2017, she was finished, done, "cured". We went to Barbados for the Christmas of 2017 to celebrate (in 2013 my parents purchased their "dream property" in Barbados when my mum retired).
Then in the spring/summer of 2018, my mum was in for a scan to check on her lymphoma status (still clear!) but the doctors found early stage ovarian cancer - completely unrelated, but we're "lucky" because it was found so early. So chemo started back up again, then a hysterectomy, and then some more chemo. But every few months, once chemo was completed and they would check her again, the doctors would say "okay just a few more rounds". I had my son in September 2019 and my mum was still in chemo. But she was doing so well, not losing her hair this time. Strong enough to come visit and stay for a week (she lives in my hometown about a 4 hour drive away). By Christmas, she was done chemo and we were all focusing on the holidays with her first grandchild. We even went back to Barbados for the whole month of February for my son's baptism (a memory now that I cling to desperately).
Everything about my mum's diagnosis and treatment seemed to always line her up to be the "lucky one". A good friend's father at the same time was diagnosed and quickly died, and I reminded myself again how lucky my mum was. She was strong. She had beaten lymphoma. My sister was convinced that something was wrong, but I wasn't. I'm not sure if that was denial or forever the optimist. But I was convinced she was going to be fine.
Until suddenly she wasn't.
“My mom was the best mom anyone could ask for, and trying to be like her is what keeps me going. ”
Can you tell us a little about the day your mom died?
There's a lot about this day that I choose to keep private, because my mother was a private person and I want to respect that. What I will say is that she died quietly and peacefully. It was the middle of the night, and it was low-key, just like she was. She joked about not wanting to make a scene in front of the neighbours and I feel like she waited until the cover of night to finally let go. She wasn't alone, and that's what mattered most. She was at home with her family.
How did you cope in the immediate days/weeks/months after the death of your mom?
All I wanted to do was stay in bed, but I couldn't because at 6am the next morning, my 10-month old son was awake. He is what kept me going during that time and still does to this day, 10 months later. When you're a mom, you don't get to take a break. I went into overdrive immediately Make sure my son was entertained, fed, bathed, etc. All the hospital supplies needed to be collected from our home. I wanted everything gone, immediately. Like somehow, if I could just get the family room back to the way it was before the hospital bed and medications, like that would somehow make it better. My sister discovered the book "Dead Moms Club" and we both devoured it in about 3 days. That book brought us comfort when we felt so alone. I found solace in alcohol, like I think most do during those first few days. It had been a long winter of Covid restrictions and restaurants were starting to open up again. My sister and I went hopping from patio to patio many afternoons, talking about everything except our mother. Even now, we don't talk about "it" (her death) at all.
I was lucky (if you can call it that) that I was still on maternity leave from my job (in Canada where we get 1 year off). So I still had another 2 months to try to grieve and get back to normal. I lived at my parents house for 3 weeks after my mother died. And then finally, my husband, my son and I decided it was time to go home.
Being back in Toronto separated myself from what had just happened. I could meet up with friends and sometimes go a few hours before thinking about "it". So many people complimented me (if that's what you can call it) about how strong I was being or how well I was handling things. I didn't feel like it. Every night when I put my son to sleep, I sat in his room and sobbed in the dark. I'm not an open person and I find it hard even to this day to show people my grief. So I would sit in the rocking chair in the nursery, hold my baby boy, and quietly cry to myself. It was my 5 minutes a day that I got to be alone with my feelings. I leaned into that and I still do.
What was a specific low point or struggle you experienced?
My mum's birthday hit me like a tonne of bricks. She would have been 69 and it came just shy of 5 months after she passed. She was absolutely the best person to buy presents for because she was always so appreciative and loved everything.
On that day, I had nowhere to go. She was cremated but we haven't had a funeral because of Covid. My grandmother (her mother) passed away at 99 years old only two months before my mum (where the fuck were those good genes for my mum, right?!) and my grandmother is buried near my home in Toronto. So on my mum's birthday, I bought some flowers and I visited her mum. I didn't know what else to do. I don't think I've ever felt as lonely as I did in that moment - even though I had my husband and my son with me.
How did you manage to find joy in those low moments?
Thank God for my son, that's all I can say. My mom was the best mom anyone could ask for, and trying to be like her is what keeps me going. Seeing my son every morning, his smiling face, knowing that he has NO idea what has happened, while it's heartbreaking, it also forces me to keep going. He reminds me that I'm not alone, that someone needs me, just like I needed her.
How do you live life differently from before the loss (if at all)? Has your attitude about life shifted? Any unexpected changes?
I feel like I'm a completely different person now. I think that's the hardest part is that no one sees it, but I feel it. My mum's death is still all I think about. I feel more connected to a spiritual world now - which sounds silly probably - but I look for her everywhere. If the mobile above my son's crib is moving, I assume it was her pushing it to show me she's there. If I hear a song on the radio, I think she is playing it for me. And while rationally I know this isn't true, it's comforting to pretend that she's here with me. I'm also more scared of death now. I didn't think it would happen to her, and it did. So I was wrong. And I really hate being wrong. I'm terrified for myself and for my son. Cancer runs in my family. And if 1 in 2 people are affected by it, which one of us is it going to be?
What do you want others to know about grief?
I'm no expert, but I will say this: you should lean into grief, not away from it. Denying yourself a chance to grieve won't ease your pain or make things better. Accepting your feelings and acknowledging your pain is the only way forward.
How can a person best be there to support a loved one who is grieving?
Be there. Ask questions. Listen. One of my best friends, a real-life hero and grief expert, brought me a gift basket a few days after my mum died. It was filled with wines, gins, boozy accessories, you name it. It was beautiful. We sat in my parents backyard and she just let me ramble incoherent thoughts for what seemed like an hour. And she just sat and listened.
My other best friend drove to visit me and stayed in a hotel and took me for champagne and oysters (notice a trend here?). We went for a fancy dinner and she helped me enjoy my life, if only briefly. I think the worst thing that happens is that people move on. It's 10 months now and only 1-2 people check in on me. And that makes me sad. Not for myself, but for my mum. She's not just worth 6 months of remembering. Have those people forgotten? That's how I feel. And I know that's not fair, life is busy, people are busy. But I guess, just don't assume that 6 months or 1 year or whatever means that person isn't still grieving. Because they are.
What would you tell others who are going through something similar?
Call me? Haha. There's something weird about grief, but like, you really only want to talk about it with people who understand and "get it". I have clung to my friends who have experienced similar traumas because there is comfort in knowing we're in this together.
“I would clean baby shit for hours again just to spend that time with her.”
If you could go back and spend one more day with your mom, what would you do?
Wow. This is hard. Because there are so many things I want to do. I want to brush her hair, hold her hand, laugh with her. I want to take videos of her holding my son, I want to have videos of us talking, I just want to hear her voice. I have so many parenting questions. So many things I want to tell her about my life since she's been gone. We talked every.single.day. I just miss that so much. One of the last nights in Barbados last year, after my son's baptism, we went out to dinner - just her, my son and me. We ate pizza on the boardwalk, drank ridiculous oversized cocktails, and then my son had his first (and only ever) diaper shit-splosion. It was an awful scene and we were on the floor of the bathroom trying to clean him and ourselves up. We were both gagging and laughing and even though it was disgusting and horrendous at the time, I would clean baby shit for hours again just to spend that time with her.
Any resources that were helpful for you that others might be able to utilize?
Dead Moms Club is one of the greatest books I have ever read. Highly recommend.
What brings you joy now?
My family. I think what hurts the most is knowing how important my mum is to me but that my son won't remember her. How can someone who is my everything be literally nothing to him? I talk about her every day, I try my hardest to make her a part of our life. I have her pictures hanging. I talk about "Granny" as if she's here. Her greatest joy in recent years was becoming a grandmother and that's what keeps me going. Being the best mom I can be, just like she was.
Anything else you’d like readers to know?
I can't say it gets better, because I'm not there yet. But I believe it will. I believe that life is beautiful and worth living, because that's what my mum believed. And if I can't do it for myself, then I can do it for her.
Want to learn more about Alicia and her story? Follow her on Instagram @alicia.rae.