It was a random morning, on a random day when I found my mother in the kitchen, distraught and trying to conceal her tear stained face. She was, and still is, the strongest woman I know. She fixed a brave smile on her face and shielded her two girls from much of the pain and anxiety she was going through due to my father’s illness. My father suffered from melanoma, the most dangerous type of skin cancer, and over time this cancer metamorphasized into a tumor in his brain. He began to lose his short and long-term memory, could not comprehend basic things, and at times wasn’t aware of his surroundings.
