I crept out of the doctor's office, my heart pounding so hard it hurt. The words replayed in my head—" Mom was going to die." No matter how many times I tried to convince myself I had misheard, the truth pierced through me like a dagger. Tears blurred my vision as I stumbled down the sterile hospital corridor, whispering silent prayers.
"Please, God, don't take her. Please let her live."
My legs felt heavy, but I forced them to keep moving until I reached her ward. The door creaked softly as I pushed it open.
There she was. My mom.
The sunlight filtering through the curtains gave the room a warm glow, but it couldn't mask the cold reality that surrounded her, the machines humming faintly, the wires connected to her frail body, the sharp scent of antiseptic in the air. My breath hitched at the sight of her, pale and fragile, her body barely rising and falling with each labored breath.
I moved slowly, my hands trembling as I wiped away tears. When she sensed my presence, her eyes fluttered open.
"Hey, sweetie," she said weakly, her lips trembling with effort. "Come here. I want to talk to you."
Her voice, once so full of life, was now soft and brittle. She stretched out her hand, and I rushed to grasp it, holding on as though my grip could anchor her to this world.
"Mom… Don't talk, okay? You're going to be fine," I choked out, my voice trembling. But even as I said the words, a cold wave of dread washed over me. I knew better. I had heard the doctor.
A sad smile tugged at her lips. "I'm so sorry, baby. I'm not going to get better."
"No! Don't say that!" My voice broke, and tears streamed down my cheeks.
"I'm so proud of you," she whispered, brushing my hair back with shaky fingers. "You're strong and kind… and so brave."
"Please don't leave me, Mom," I sobbed, my chest tightening.
Her sunken eyes, though tired, still held so much love. She gently squeezed my hand, summoning every ounce of her strength.
"I'll always be with you, sweetie," she murmured, pressing my hand against my heart. "Right in here."
I broke down, burying my face in her chest. Her touch, though weak, calmed me as she ran her fingers through my hair one last time.
"Promise me," she whispered, her voice growing fainter. "Promise you'll live a happy life. Follow your dreams. Don't ever give up. Always listen to your dad, brothers and sister. They will take care of you."
"I promise," I said between sobs.
She smiled faintly, her lips trembling as she struggled to breathe. "I love you so much… more than words can ever say."
"I love you too, Mom," I whispered through the tears.
And then, it happened. She was dead.
The steady beeping of the monitors slowed before turning into a single, flat tone.
Her grip weakened, and her hand slipped from mine.
"No! No, no, no!" I screamed, shaking her lifeless hand. "Mom, wake up! Please wake up!"
The door burst open. Doctors rushed in, followed closely by my family. But I wouldn't let go.
"Time of death 12:20pm, date of death 6th, July 2023." The doctor recorded.
"Sweetie," my dad said softly, his voice trembling. "We have to say goodbye."
But I clung to her, burying myface in her hair. "No! I won't let her go!"
Tears streamed down his face as he gently placed his hands on my shoulders. "She's at peace now."
Mark and Jerry stepped in, their faces pale and tear-streaked. They pulled me back, wrapping me in their arms as I thrashed and sobbed. My dad scooped me up, his arms trembling as he carried me away from the room.
As we walked down the hallway, I looked back. Her face, peaceful and still, stayed in my vision long after the door closed behind us.
"We'll get through this, baby," my dad whispered as he handed me to Mark.
Mark cradled me in his arms, his voice cracking as he spoke. "We're here for you. Always."
Jerry followed closely, his hand on my back, offering silent support.
Mark carried me outside, where the car was waiting. The whole ride home was a blur, I barely noticed the streets or the time passing. My mind was lost in memories of Mom's laughter, her voice, her warmth.
When we arrived home, I curled up on the couch, my body wracked with sobs. My brothers flanked me, their arms wrapping around me protectively.
"We're here, baby sis," Mark whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
"Always," Jerry added, his hand gently stroking my hair.
Their words offered comfort, but the ache in my chest didn't fade. I let them hold me as I cried, their strength reminding me of the promise I made to Mom, to keep going, no matter what.
The door creaked open, and Jacqueline entered. Her face was streaked with tears. She had rushed home from the company the moment she heard.
At first, she tried to hold it in, wiping her tears quickly. But as soon as her eyes locked with mine, the dam broke. She let out a slow, heartbreaking sob and stumbled toward us.
I stood and ran to her, and we collapsed into each other's arms.
"I can't believe she's gone," she whimpered, her tears soaking my shoulder.
Mark and Jerry stepped closer. Mark pulled Jacqueline into a tight embrace while Jerry kept his arms around me.
Jacqueline's sobs grew louder as Mark held her tightly, his arms wrapped protectively around her trembling frame. She buried her face into his chest, her body shaking with grief.
"It's okay, J," Mark whispered, his voice soft but strained. "Let it out. I've got you."
Jacqueline clung to him, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as though letting go would make the pain unbearable. Mark's hand moved gently along her back, stroking it in slow, comforting motions.
"She was fine this morning," Jacqueline whimpered through her tears. "She smiled at me. She even laughed. How could this happen so fast?"