The Worst Kind of Departure

Devastation. The only way to describe it. I wish I didn’t have to describe it at all. This is not something I anticipated or bargained for. I am lost and don’t foresee anything that will change my emotional state. I will do whatever I can to ensure that no other family experiences this fate.

Being a single mom with two children, I am used to being walloped by one thing or another on a daily basis. My son Andrew, 29, and my daughter Kylie, 23, have kept me on my toes since they were born. Andrew has Asperger’s syndrome and was non-verbal until he was 13, and Kylie was born with a heart defect, which required emergency surgery when she was 10 months old. I am not complaining. I am very lucky to have the children that I do, and as any mother would, I dealt with the issues as they came along.

Yes, the children had different fathers, and they always seemed to be polar opposites. Andrew was always tall for his age, with blond hair and blue eyes. Kylie, was very skinny with beautiful brown hair and brown eyes. Andrew was very quiet, while Kylie would always go around the house singing her little heart out.

Andrew was never sick and would often receive the attendance award in school, while Kylie seemed to stay sick with the strangest things. Since finding her double aortic arch, her pediatrician, Dr. T was our unsung hero. The pediatrician prior to him just claimed she had asthma, and had her on a nebulizer three times per day. When her symptoms got worse rather than better with time, I changed doctors. Thank God I had. Our first visit with Dr. T ended up a trip to the hospital for a CT Scan, and then, of course, the surgery to follow. When Kylie was coming in, he knew to clear his afternoon because her issue was always a doozy. Whether it was cryptosporidium, e-coli, salmonella, MRSA, or any of the other crazy things she contracted, we were often sent to the hospital, had the shit scared out of us, and were then sent home with whatever the antibiotic de jour happened to be.

Andrew’s problems were behavioral. Rather that talking, Andrew was very quiet and took everything in. He wasn’t able to use his words like other kids, which often resulted in Momma having to go get him after a meltdown. He was also a rule-follower. If he noticed anyone breaking a rule, he was compelled to correct the other child, resulting in fights and another call for Mom to pick him up. After three expulsions from pre-K, we finally found a private daycare that got him through pre-K graduation. Whew, never thought it would happen, and I am indebted to Ms. F to this day.

On Mondays, Andrew always came home from school crying to me because he couldn’t understand why he was never invited to the Saturday birthday parties all of his other classmates were. I cried with him. It is difficult to have a child that no one likes. He tried so hard to belong, but the harder he tried, the more uncomfortable it became. We went to therapy to help, which is when we received the Asperger’s syndrome diagnosis. Makes sense. We started medication and weekly therapy, and little by little, he learned to communicate, read social cues, and understand various things associated with his diagnosis. He was always a very sweet child, who would do anything for others, if given the chance.

And so, the beat went on. The kids continued to grow and we had many situations to tackle, but we did so together. We were often struggling financially, and had only enough for the needs, not the wants. Whenever I could swing it, I would reward the three of us with some type of day out. The kids were each other’s best friends and did everything together. Whenever possible, Andrew would meet Kylie at her bus stop, put his arm around her and walked her up to the house. She talked the entire walk, explaining in detail everything that happened in her day. Andrew loved Kylie very much, and in fact, she happened to be his only friend until mid-high school.

Kylie has always been very studious. She has never received a grade below a B, but anything less than exceptional? She beats herself up about it. I chuckle to myself when I think about how many times I had to tell her, “It’s OK honey, you got an 94, don’t be so hard on yourself for not getting 100 on the test.” Most parents had to encourage doing better, while I had to encourage doing worse! She breezed through college, and is now a veterinary student at University of Georgia.

Andrew, against all odds, became a UPS driver. He made so many friends and even moved out of our house to be closer to work, and of course, his friends. He always made the time to come and visit Kylie and I, and every time Kylie needed advise, she could count on her big brother. Boy, was I proud of my kids. When Andrew bought his condominium in 2024, I went in to my therapist and actually said, “Well, looks like my work is done. He won’t need me anymore.”

In January 2025, Andrew called me and complained of a three-day stomachache. He told me he tried everything, and was beginning to have cramps. Both of us ultimately thought he either had diverticulitis like I have, or he was dehydrated. Wrong. The GI doctor immediately had him do a colonoscopy. The news was shocking. Colorectal cancer. And what was worse, Stage IV. After a few CT Scans, he was given about three weeks to live. What? How? Can’t be. But it was.

My beautiful son, who was never sick is now dying, and I mean literally. What if we hadn’t gone to the GI doctor? We would have just found him in his bed one day? This is beyond comprehension. He has exceeded any goal put in front of him. He will exceed this one also. I could not let this happen. We immediately got him to the hospital for a colostomy bag and started chemotherapy. He made it through the first round, which wasn’t expected, and then the second, and third. A total of eight chemos were administered. I just knew that between this, constant praying and begging God not to take my child would do the trick.

We had to go for testing to determine next steps. The news was not good. I looked in my son’s direction and saw his shoulders and expression drop. I rushed over to him to put my arm around him as he quietly sobbed. The chemo was not working. Andrew was admitted to the hospital again. As the days crept by I thought about my words to my therapist. Is it my fault? Did I cause this by saying my work was done? There has to be an explanation. Certainly, there must be.

One of the only two things in this world that meant anything to me was going to be gone. I watched as his weight dropped from the original 210 pounds he had been for years to a mere 150. He was skeletal and unable to eat at all now; not something a mom wants to witness. A miracle has to happen. God wouldn’t do this to someone who’s been through so much and come so far. He has saved others, so we won’t give up hope.

I held his hand and told him how proud I was of everything he had accomplished. How he had done more than most people twice his age. I told him to go-be with my father, and he shook his head, “no”. My sister told me that he wanted to know that I was going to be OK. With everything he was dealing with, he told everyone he worried that I was not going to be OK when he was gone. He was right. I knew it was time though to let him go, to stop the suffering and let him rest easy. I told him I was going to be OK, and that his sister would be OK. I kissed his cheek, kissed his forehead, and he was gone. My son and everything he stood for had just departed. It felt like someone was actually squeezing my heart. I cried uncontrollably. One of my only two reasons for being, is gone.

We have to tell the world about this silent killer called colorectal cancer. No one talks about this disease. You are not taught about it in high school or college. Your parents don’t have the “colorectal cancer talk” with you at home. Isn’t this the old person’s disease? This is the number one cancer killer of people between the ages of 20 and 50. There are no symptoms until it’s too late. The numbers are staggering and expected to rise 140% by 2030. Screening starting in your low 20s would help prevent it. If caught soon enough it is easily treatable. It is killing our young men AND women equally, because they don’t know to be screened. Enough is enough. Please check out saveabutt.com for more information on where to go and what to do. It is too late for our family, but not for yours. I do not want to see any other family go through this devastation.