By: lauren smith in Trail Prep
Don’t call me Cheryl Strayed, or Wild, or anything like that. Yes, my mom died. No, that’s not why I’m hiking the Appalachian Trail.
July marks the third anniversary of my mom’s death. I don’t like referring to it as an “anniversary” because that typically denotes a happy event, whereas this is anything but happy. However, anniversaries are something you celebrate, and while I do proactively choose to celebrate her life every single day, I’m especially cognizant of everything my mom embodied during this month.
She died from a brain aneurysm. Located at the base of her brain, no one knew about it and there were no symptoms (except for headaches, but who doesn’t get those?) prior to its rupture. One day she was there, going about her daily routine, not doing anything out of the ordinary. Then, just like that, her body betrayed her and my mom was gone.
It was a three-day ordeal. For me, there isn’t just, ‘the day my mom died.’ Instead, there’s the day her aneurysm happened (which is what my dad, sister, and I consider to be the day she died), the day she was declared brain dead and, lastly, the day we removed her from life support.
Sleeping during that time was nearly impossible. How could I when the only sound I could hear was the noise of the machine literally keeping my mom alive? Eating was weird; I wasn’t hungry, but I’d do it because I knew I had to for my body’s sake and to appease other people.
Appeasing people was something I did a lot during the hospital stay and over the few months following her death. I comforted others by doing what I thought they wanted, instead of taking care of myself. I knew this would come back to haunt me – and it did – but at the time, I just didn’t care. It didn’t seem like a big deal because, after all, my mom just died. What could be a bigger deal than that?
We were able to donate her organs. She saved five lives and enhanced the lives of hundreds more. My mom was the most generous person, even in her final act.
Yes, there were absolutely times when I took her for granted. I never told her, because I didn’t realize it myself, but she was my best friend. We talked every day. Even if it was a brief text, or a call on her way home from work (which I never understood, since I would always see her when she got home – now I miss those calls more than anything). She would have done anything for her family. Honestly, she was the greatest person I’ve known. I was just graduating college when she died, and what I want more than anything is to have been able to have had that peer-to-peer relationship that we were just starting into. I wish she knew all of this.
Although she is not the reason I’m hiking (she would actually have been very against it at first, though I know she would have ended up being right there with my dad and sister in being my biggest supporter, and sending an overwhelming amount of mail drops), she is the reason I decided to fundraise while I was on this journey. She is also the inspiration behind my selection of the foundation for whom I’m fundraising.
In my attempt to memorialize her, I decided when I finalized my plans to hike that I would try to fundraise for the LoveYourBrain Foundation. You can learn more about the foundation in my Donate page on this site (the site also links to my fundraising page – I’ve had a few inquiries on how people can donate), and I encourage you to scope out their website to learn more about them. Their mission is to provide, through education and various programming efforts, support to those affected by traumatic brain injuries (TBI). My mom did not survive her TBI, but it instilled in me an even greater respect and sense of awe for those individuals who have experienced a TBI.
My introduction to the foundation was somewhat accidental (and coincidental). In July 2013, I happened to receive a free month of HBO. I turned it on one night prior to the showing of a newly released documentary: The Crash Reel. It focuses on the story of professional snowboarder, Kevin Pearce, and his journey of living with a TBI. After receiving a few concussions playing high school and one season of collegiate soccer, I was always fascinated with the brain and its capabilities (I’m convinced it’s our most powerful organ). So, I decided to watch the documentary.
Anyway, a few months after my mom died, I found out about the LYB Foundation soon after its inception. Kevin’s father is glassblower and potter, Simon Pearce. He created the KP Love Your Brain bowl, a beautiful glass piece where one hundred percent of the profits from the sale went to (what started out as) the Kevin Pearce Fund, which “helped those affected by Brain Injury, Down Syndrome, and related challenges.” When I came across this bowl (accidentally, no less – I was searching for a going away present for a former coworker on Simon Pearce’s website when I found it), it brought me peace and solidified my thoughts that this was a cause I wanted to help. After the LYB Foundation was developed, I knew this was what I wanted to support, and I figured my hike would be a good vessel in which to do so. That said, I want to thank all of you who have donated, or are considering giving a donation. I am so humbled by your generosity.
I am so incredibly lucky. I have the most amazing, supportive family and friends – people who would do anything for me; I have my health, something that I appreciate more and more each day after seeing what some people have to battle; and I have the opportunity to go out and hike over 2,000 miles. Oh yeah, and I had 22 years with the most selfless, beautiful person I’ve ever known.
With love,
Danger
