When Jacinta Malone was 17 years old, she had no idea she would soon get married, give birth to seven sons, move 2,000 miles away from home and undergo the removal of a life-threatening blood clot from her brain. To make matters more extreme, she had no idea it would all happen in less than a decade’s time.

This woman, now known as Cindy Lijewski, is my mom and closest friend. I don’t know how many people brag about their parents, but I know I love to brag about mine.

My mom gave birth to me when she was 18 years old. Barely out of high school and hardly ready to start a family, she embraced her situation with me and my dad.

As the years progressed, her love of children grew. Because of this, so did our family.

She had always wanted to be a teacher and acted on that passion through her children. Until high school, each of us was educated at home.

Growing up, I took a lot of her love and passion for granted. That changed quickly when I was 8 years old and her life was put on the line.

One day, unexpectedly, she collapsed while out on a run. A series of medical scans later revealed a blood clot, which doctors initially mistook for a brain tumor.

Extended family and members of our community reached out to support us. My five current siblings and I matured rather quickly.

Finally, realizing she had little time to live, my mom called for an emergency surgery before the scheduled date. When the surgeons opened her skull, they were relieved to discover their mistake. It was a blood clot, not a tumor.

The removal went more smoothly than they had anticipated, and she lived.

The ordeal amplified my love for her. I’ve heard stories of loss and abandonment and, while I am blessed not to have experienced that, I cannot forget that I came terrifyingly close.

The tattoo on my left forearm, a rose, serves as a reminder of that event. One week before my mom had her surgery, she was given a bouquet of roses. The day before the clot was removed, all of the roses had wilted except for one.

I tried pressing and saving the rose, believing it would be my mom’s last possession. When she survived, I still tried keeping the rose as a reminder of how blessed I am.

Like a typical 9-year-old, I misplaced it. So I did the next best thing- had one tattooed on my arm. 

Now, every time I see the rose, I remember how blessed I am to still have her in my life. When she does pass, the memories will always remain.

Living on a campus several hundred miles from home, it’s especially important to keep these blessings in mind.

In two weeks, WSU will celebrate each of our moms and motherly figures – those passed and still with us. In honor of them, the Evergreen is giving you a chance to write a 50-word message to your mother and see it printed in our Mom’s Weekend Special Edition on April 11.

If you would like to send in your own shout out, email your message to [email protected].