Fragments

"Fragments" is the raw, aching sound of watching someone you love slip away. It's a song born from the pain of seeing my mom battle stage 4 cancer—not once, but twice. The woman who was always my rock, my source of strength, my safe place, now barely resembles the person I’ve known my whole life. I can’t bear seeing her like this—so weak, so fragile, and lost in the sickness that’s slowly taking over her body. Every time I look at her, it feels like a part of her is breaking away, and with each broken piece, my heart shatters a little more. I want to make it stop. I want to take the pain from her and carry it myself, but I can’t.

It hurts so much to see my mom not be herself. The laughter, the warmth, the love—it's all clouded by the harsh reality of her illness. I hate watching her suffer. I hate watching her be swallowed up by something that has no mercy, no kindness. I want to scream, I want to fight back against this, but all I can do is hold her hand and pray.

But in the midst of this pain, there’s something I have to hold on to: the belief that this is all part of something bigger. Maybe it’s God’s plan, or maybe it’s just life’s cruel way of testing us. I don’t know. All I know is that I have to believe that somehow, no matter how much it hurts, we will make it through this. Even if it feels like we’re falling apart, I have to believe that the pieces will come back together in the end.

The bass cutting through the chords is the flicker of hope I have for her. It’s the quiet belief that she will pull through—that she will find the strength to fight this thing with every ounce of who she is. It's the love I have for her, beating through every note, telling her that no matter what, she is not alone.

If I disappear for a while, it’s because this sadness, this weight, is sometimes too much to carry. The depression hits hard, and the pain of seeing her like this can drown me. But through it all, I love her more than words could ever say. She’s my everything.