Our mom passed away suddenly on Tuesday, June 9th, 2026, and it started with the worst news to receive in October of 2025.
Our mom was diagnosed with Stage 4 endometrial cancer that had spread to her lungs, spleen, and even her bones. My siblings and I worked together to get her to see an oncologist, and we took time off work to make sure she wasn't alone during her chemo appointments. Our mother was a private person, and did not share with a lot of people how grim her diagnosis was. On her good days, she spent time outside in her yard, playing music with a group of newly made friends in Orange, VA, and having Bible study with her close-knit friend group. On her bad days, she would lie in bed, deliberating whether or not to take Zofran, and texting my sister or I to please make a special trip to Chik-Fil-A to get her a bowl of her favorite chicken noodle soup.
She got her second PET scan on February 11th, 2026, revealing that her cancer had significantly shrunk, and we felt hopeful for the first time in months. The doctor recommended she receive immunotherapy only once every 6 weeks, making more time in her schedule to do the things she enjoyed. Then in May, Mom started to have bladder issues. We were referred to a urologist after a trip to the ER due to her bleeding and severe pain, but unfortunately we never made it to that appointment. We took two more trips to the ER as the pain went uncontrolled, and I was certain she would not leave the hospital due to the amount of pain she was in.
On Sunday, June 7th, we received the news that the cancer had spread to her bladder and liver. In addition, the doctor gave us an impossible choice: either Mom goes in for surgery to put tubes in her kidneys for drainage that came with high risk of cardiac arrest on the table, or stop treatment to bring her home for hospice care and ensure she passes as comfortably as possible. We cried together. I did not know what to do. But seeing the condition she was in and how weak she had become, we decided to bring Mom home and start hospice. She was admitted into the hospital as she got the last round of antibiotics (she had gone septic) and more pain medicine, and my siblings and I prepared for hospice. We got a hospital bed, a table, cleared space for her to be brought home in an ambulance for the last time, and my sister and I notified our employers that we were taking off work to take care of her in her final days. Unfortunately, she did not make it home.
Tuesday morning, at 1am, all three of us got separate calls. "We're so sorry, but Ms. Connie has passed away." Our worlds stopped, and we are still reeling from how quickly she deteriorated. We feel grateful that we were able to spend many hours with her at the hospital, but it is still painful to know we could not do more for her.
In the aftermath of her death, my two siblings and I realized she is still married to her husband despite them being separated for over 10 years. For the last three years, our older brother had been caring for our mother, helping with bills, and fixing up her house with an expectation of security in a home they could share, and knowing that once she passed away, he would keep the small property in the family. Now that is all on the line.
Along with her cremation fee, a $13,000 roof repair loan in my brother's name, and a complicated legal situation requiring the help of a probate lawyer, we have a long and complex road ahead of us. My brother no longer has our mom's income to upkeep the house, and we are all fronting the cost of making sure Mom's final wishes are granted.
Thank you so much for reading about our situation, and please know that any amount helps. In addition, we ask that you please share our story with anyone else who might be able to help us. We appreciate your help!