I feel like I’ve lived two lives. These lives are separated by a single day: October 5, 1990. That was when my mom lost her six-year battle with breast cancer.
I was 19 at the time, and at 4:27 p.m. that Friday, a big part of me died too. My life changed forever. My mom and I had a loving, but complicated relationship likely due to not being adopted until I was 18 months old.
I came from the foster care system, where I had been traumatized by sexual abuse and severe neglect. My mom was never told any of that information.
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