Why People Tell Me I'm The Strongest Person They Know

Hi, my name is Dasha, and many people tell me I am the strongest person they know.

It all started on April 28th, 2013 when my mother had a seizure, and was unexpectedly diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor the size of an orange.  She was given 5 weeks to live, but I managed to pull myself together and prolong her life by two and a half years. Today, I sit in her bedroom, look at her face as she sleeps, and cry. She may even know it at this point, but the doctors say we have less than 3 months left together before she leaves me for good.

This is my story:

I have lived an average life, some would say. I came to the United States as a 12 year-old kid, after spending 5 years being raised by my father's mom, in my mom's absence. Mom was busy making money in Los Angeles, and sending every penny to me in Moscow. I was her pride and joy, and even when times were tough, I was taking English lessons, tutoring, vocal coaching and piano lessons. Our family motto was always "there's always something to do".

The first few years in America were strange, because I felt so disconnected from my "new" mom. We lived in a $300 single apartment on Fairfax, just below Wilshire. Mom worked all day, and I learned how to cook all on my own. Soon our grandma joined us, and we had to vacate the single apartment, because the landlord couldn't have 3 people in such a tiny space. With all the money we had saved up, we were fortunate enough to secure a down payment of $17k on a mortgage on a condo in the Hollywood Hills. At that time, in 1999, that beautiful place was $169k, prices that today are laughable. That condo is the most beautiful, and beloved space I have ever lived in, and it was our home for 12 years.

Did I mention that I lived an average life? It was a very busy life, and some may say I grew up too quickly. I started working at the early age of 14, and at one point, I was getting my bachelor's of science in Marketing, working as a receptionist at a spa, going to beauty school for my esthetician diploma, helping my mom launch the skincare brand, and dancing in a gypsy dance troupe at night on the weekends. In fact, we took such a long time to get the business off the ground, I had to sleep in a room full of cardboard boxes filled with cosmetic jars, lids, sprayers, and bottles for the first 3 years. Those first 3 years were the toughest - we literally filled bottles and jars all night, and in the mornings,  woke up at 5am, packed the car, and drive to a beauty school to do a demo. We often drove to San Diego, Lancaster, Las Vegas, San Francisco, and anywhere else they would allow us to do a demo. Some days we made $500, and some days $80, and that covered our gas and lunch... but we were always together, and every day was special and fun.  That' how we got our start, and met our very first clients. 

The same clients are still with us today, almost 9 years later.

As I am typing this, tears roll down my eyes, because things will never go back to the way they used to be. I may never hear my mom speak to me again, and that is painful. My mom had the most beautiful voice in the world. She was a professional singer, and she has put out some incredible albums. Now music helps me... you know how? The first day we transferred her into the hospital bed, she refused to eat. She shut her teeth, and wouldn't allow me to feed her. After many failed attempts, I sat down on a chair next to her and, shaking in tears, started to sing. I sang all the Russian songs I knew, one after another, crying, but with a smile on my face...and she opened her mouth, and ate! Her head was rolling to the side, so I had to prop it up with my left hand while I spoon fed her with the right. That's how we still eat. She falls asleep sometimes while I feed her, and that scares me, so I have to quickly wake her or literally force her to spit the food out, so she doesn't choke... and it takes me a good hour to feed her like this, but it's the only way. While she eats, I tell her about my day at work, and even though it hurts, I tell her she needs to get well soon so she can come back to the office. I know it won't happen, and I'm sure she knows it as well, but she loves to be at work so much,  that I can see that thought literally breathing the life-force into her. It is a sense of purpose that makes life worth while, worth wanting to stay alive for. 

I sit like this with her, while she moans in confusion, unable to move or speak, and talk to her, sing to her, and feed her. I only stopped singing once - when I started a song we usually sang in a duet, and she realized she couldn't sing along. A tear ran down her cheek, and I understood this was painful for her, too.

Grandma is 85 now. She is frail, and using a walker after her recent fall and hip surgery. She can't be in the same room with mom, because the sight of mom being so sick is too much for her to handle. It's ok, I guess... different people cope in different ways. 

As for me, I don't have any other family - it's just me, mom, and grandma. I have promised myself to keep strong, and never give up, because for the past two and a half years I have been responsible for the lives of 3 people. In my hands lay the duties of running a corporation and providing enough business to keep my employees fed, taking care of my sick mom and elderly grandma, staying grounded, positive and healthy, looking youthful and radiant as the brand ambassador of a skincare company, and making sure I have no regrets.

Many people tell me I am the strongest person they know. Perhaps, and I'm sure life has a beautiful plan for me.