I lost my mom at 13, my thoughts on the flick
My mother died when I was 13, in early April. She'd been in noticeable pain since about the November before and was diagnosed, given a terminal prognosis, and began fighting in the hopes of earning some extra months by January. I watched the woman who'd been a highly active force in my life for as long as I could remember reduced to shell unable to get out of a chair without assistance, unable to lie down, unable to eat anything...it was rough. I'm 27 now.
This movie...it nailed it. The painful duality of trying to live your normal, everyday life while your mother dies a little more every day at home. The nigh-unbearable condescension of being treated like a porcelain doll by well meaning adults when you just want things to feel normal. The weird pain of having people who've done little more than mock you and make your life unpleasant all year suddenly try back off out of some misplaced sense of respect, knowing it's not real and won't last. Wanting it to be over, even knowing what that will entail, because the slow motion decline is just too god damned much to bear.
Admittedly, I might be projecting a little bit. But this movie...damn.