The Back Seat

The clock read 8:37 am on a Saturday. I remember sitting in the car with my mom while we ran errands like we always did every Saturday. But I wasn’t in the front, I was sitting in the back with my younger sister. The front seat was vacant and I could hear it calling my name. Because there was no one sitting next to my mom, that meant she had control of the radio. She was singing and dancing along to every “old” 80’s and 90’s song that was playing. I so desperately wanted to be in the front with her. 

As a kid, I always wanted to sit in the front seat in the car. For years I was told that I wasn’t allowed to sit in the front because I wasn’t tall enough. I understand that this was for my safety, but I still thought the front seat was fascinating. I could control the radio and sit next to my parents. But, the best part was being able to see out of the front windshield. Now I know there were windows in the back, but I wanted to see the big picture. I thought that sitting in the front seat would be a gateway to being a teenager, which sounded exciting when I was ten years old. But I was wrong.

Now that I can sit in the front seat, I want to go back.

I always thought that “grown up” life was going to be the best. I thought that I would be able to fly through high school with high honors, take part in every single club and activity that I could, all while being able to hang out with my friends and enjoy the “golden” years of my life. But, again, I was wrong. 

The hardest experience was when I lost my mom two weeks after I had my seventeenth birthday. She had been fighting stage four colorectal cancer for a year. No one can truly ever imagine losing a parent until it actually happens. Having to navigate life without my mom is incredibly difficult. It’s hard to believe that she won’t be sitting in the audience the day that I graduate high school. It’s hard to believe that I won’t be getting her a mother’s day card and I won’t get to say goodnight or “I love you” to her anymore. All of the time I think to myself, “I can’t wait to go home and tell Mom about this,” only to stop and realize that I can’t. I won’t hear her singing in the car with us, she won’t be writing us little notes, these little bits of everyday life that seemed so simple became little bits that I took for granted. 

I remember my mom’s nurse once said to me, “It’s not going to be better necessarily. What it is, is that it is going to be different.” 

And different can be okay. 

It might not always be the best, but that’s just how my life is now; it’s different. And I know that if my mom was here right now, she would take the change that life threw at her and just roll with it. So, I will too. 

Now, when I get into the car, I still sit in the front seat. Even though I miss the backseat, I’ve been through so much sitting in the front seat. I know the front seat is where I need to be; continuing forward through whatever other battles life wants to give me. 

Featured Image: “Violet In The Backseat” by Joe Shlabotnik is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0.