Dec. 30 would have been my mother’s 76th birthday.

But there most likely will be no celebration since my family is still in mourning. We lost her Dec. 19 to pancreatic cancer.

It’s been quite some time since my last column, too long actually, but some things are just too painful to share. I started several columns but gave up each time, because there was no way to share hope after seeing what she had to go through.

Pancreatic cancer takes no prisoners. The treatments you endure to ease the symptoms or buy you a little extra time weaken you to a point where quality of life versus quantity of life truly becomes a debate. Or at least that was the way it seemed with my mom.

She was brave. She tried her best to get ahead of the disease, but by the time she was diagnosed it was too late to do much of anything. In the days her life was drawing to a close, I learned that she endured treatment because she didn’t want me to ever give up in my own fight against cancer. In one way, that breaks my heart. But it also turned out to be the last, biggest, gift she could give me.

All the time Mama accompanied me on my medical mission, from doctor appointments to scans to cancer surgery, we had no inkling she was sick too, much sicker than me, as it turned out. She had been treated for diabetes for months before her cancer was at last diagnosed May 31. That seems to be pretty commonplace; in my circle alone, several people have shared that their loved ones’ stories were like my mom’s diagnosis. Diabetes out of the blue and then, wham, a cancer diagnosis later. I searched online for answers and found, to my alarm, that it happens all too often. I can’t help but wonder if a simple scan done early on as a precaution would have made a difference. It wouldn’t have saved my mom’s life, most likely, but the quality of her final months may have improved.

I noted that my mom was diagnosed May 31, but she and my dad did not share the news until the next day. As it turns out, May 31 is the wedding anniversary of my brother and sister-in-law, and my mom did not want to spoil it for them. That was typical of her, putting on a brave front for others and putting herself last.

My mom never wanted to be the center of attention. She was happiest doing for others. Fate was cruel when it took her during the Christmas season, because that was her favorite time of the year. She loved the cooking, decorating, sending Christmas cards, the shopping … she especially enjoyed shopping each year for Toys for Tots. She would shop year-round for things to go under Christmas trees for youngsters who may not have had much otherwise. Before she got sick, she was able to purchase a few things for Toys for Tots, and as the holiday season grew near she made sure I dug them out and took them to the sheriff’s office drop-off box.

I was insistent my mom have a Christmas tree this year. So I dragged out a small one and set it up in her bedroom, where she could see it during her waking hours. I remembered how she loved blue lights, so I rummaged through my things and found a string and added them to the tree. I plugged them in and was disappointed when only about half of the blue lights worked. Feeling I had failed her, I drifted off to sleep in a chair next to her bed. When I awoke several minutes later, all the lights were working and they continued to shine every day from that point on.

Some may say it was a loose connection. But I’m claiming it as a Christmas miracle. It’s a small thing, but those blue lights sure were pretty!

The loss of my mom will hurt for a long time. I’d like to say I could share a message of profound hope for others, but I can’t. She was my mama and she’s gone and I miss her so badly I can hardly breathe sometimes.

I have never liked New Year’s celebrations. The thought that another year of unfulfilled potential has slipped away depresses me. But this year I embrace the arrival of 2018. It has to be a kinder year than 2017 turned out to be.