Teen People Magazine

Memories Of My Mother

Written By : Bailey Ross

When Amy Jo Johnson won her role on Felicity last year, she was preparing for the hardest goodbye of her life.

By Amy Jo Johnson

In January 1998, I got the kind of call all actresses hope for: I had won the role of Julie Emrick on a new TV drama called Felicity. It should have been one of the most exciting moments of my life. But three months earlier, something had happened that would forever put things into perspective. In October 1997, my mom, Christine Johnson, was diagnosed with cancer. Then months later, she died at age 53, and my life would never be the same.

My mom was my best friend. She taught me to appreciate every day. I think that is the key to life. I try to keep remembering that, to kind of make it a habit. And when I get all caught up in everything, I just stop and think about her.

I was like her sidekick growing up in Cape Cod, Mass. My brother, Greig Jr., now 33, and my sister, Julie, now 32 were both older than me (I’m 29.) So when they started school, it was just me and my mom together all day, running errands or just hanging out.

We even remained close through my rebelling period. In high school, I was staying out too late, doing the normal teenage stuff, so my parents sent me to a private boarding school in New Hampshire. I got kicked out after eight months for getting caught in the boys’ dorm. Oops! My punishment was having to go to a small local church school. When I did something wrong, if I tried to deny it or hide it, my mom would get angry. But if I admitted it and apologized, she’d be totally cool. She was really fair.

She was also supersupportive. Ever since I was a kid, I knew I wanted to perform. She was always my biggest fan. She wasn’t a pushy stage mom at all, but she was definitely in my corner. She was really into personal growth (a longtime clothing store manager, she opened a self-help bookstore at one point) and encouraged the people around her to follow their dreams.

When I decided to move to New York City at 19 to pursue an acting career, my mom and dad, Greig Johnson, a car salesman, never said “That’s risky“, or “Don’t do that“. Two years later in 1993, I moved to Los Angeles and got my first TV role as Kimberly, the Pink Power Ranger on Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers.

Everything was going smoothly until the fall of 1997, when my life came to a screeching halt. My mom’s doctors thought she had cysts on her uterus that had grown and need to be removed. But what should have been a simple hysterectomy turned into something far worse. Mom already kind of suspected. A couple of days before her surgery, she called me up really frightened and said, “Amy Jo, what if I have cancer?” and I was like, “Mom, you can’t say that. No. No. No“. So she went in for the operation. They didn’t expect to find cancer, but it was everywhere. A rare type of, it had started in her appendix, and by the time the doctors found it, it had spread all over her body.

I’ll never forget the moment when my dad called and told me the news. It was Halloween. In shock, I flew back East to be with my family. I remember sitting up on night with my dad, probably two days after we found out. He told me he knew she was going to die, he just knew it. I was like, “No, we’ve got to have hope“.

My mom handled the news – and her terminal prognosis – with incredible bravery. That Christmas, which she knew would probably be her last, she bought us all tickets to see The Lion King on Broadway in New York. It was really emotional because the story is about the circle of life and dying and coming back again. I looked over at my mom during the scene where Simba sees his father’s ghost. She had tears in her eyes. But she never broke down in front of any of us kids or her friends. I think my dad’s the only one who saw how frightened she must have been.

In the beginning, we had several disappointments. My mom tried different chemotherapies. She also went to a hospital in Washington, D.C., for a surgery the doctors hoped might give her more time. My sister and I slept on little cots in her hospital room. It was like a slumber party.

But the surgery was a letdown. They opened her up again and said there was nothing they could do. The cancer had spread too much. Everyone was trying to help, recommending holistic medicines and special diets. We searched on the Internet for anything that might cure cancer. There are just a million things out there that people are trying to sell and tell you. Finally, my mom said, “Stop! I don’t want to try anything else. Don’t bring me anymore of your crazy teas!“

That winter and spring, I traveled back and forth constantly between L.A. and Cape Cod. The people at Felicity were incredible. A couple of times, they stopped production or rearranged the schedule so I could go home. And the producers would send my mom hats and T-shirts and letters saying, “We love your daughter“. I think it was a comfort for her to know that I would be taken care of when she was gone.

My mom didn’t want to die in a hospital, so hospice workers came to our home in July of 1998. They were great because they helped my mom accept the fact that she was going to die. That allowed her to say goodbye to everybody. One day, she gathered her favorite jewelry and possessions and had each person she loved come upstairs, and she gave everything away. She gave some people back gifts that she remembered they had given to her, like, 20 years ago.

She kept her sense of humor until she died. Four days after the doctors had predicted she’d pass away, she was sitting in bed and starting singing! She looked at my sister and me and jokingly said, “What am I going to to? A girl can’t live without her jewels“.

She wanted me to go back to work, where they were rearranging production for me, but I told her I was staying with her. Finally, she insisted: “This could go on for a month. You have to go“. I said goodbye so many times. I’d hug her, kiss her, run downstairs, get in the car and then run back up. I did that, like, seven times. Finally, she said, “Amy Jo, this is getting ridiculous. Just go“. I was the hardest I’ve said or will ever have to. Three days after that, on August 19, 1998, she died.

My sister called me and told me the news. I cried all over my house. Then, I went to my living room and just sat there, and suddenly, I got the most incredible feeling I’ve ever had. It was like my mom was in the room with me. It was like she came over and gave me peace, and it made me ready to go home for the funeral and be strong for my dad and the rest of the family.

I have the most amazing memories of my mother. She was inspiring. She got married and pregnant when she was only 19, so when we all grew up and left the house, it was her chance to start growing. She and I went through a lot of spiritual experiences at the same time, realizing that all answers are within. I remember we’d call each other and be like, “Oh, my God. We’re going through the same thing!” I miss those conversations.

My mom is my guardian angel. Even now, after her death, I write letters to her. I talk to her a lot. There are things I knew I needed to talk to my mom about, like being totally on my own without a boyfriend, which I’m finally doing now for the first time since tenth grade.

My mom taught me to go after my dreams. I have this faith in myself I must have gotten from her. I believe I can do anything. If I decide I want to be a doctor tomorrow, I’m going to be a doctor. My mom made me see that if you find your true happiness and go for what you want, it will make the people around you want to go and find their happiness too. I’ll always cherish that gift.

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