But somehow, there was always one more shoe to drop.
“Rod, come in here with me.” Mom’s progressively weaker voice worried me more than I shared with her. Though I kept the fear in me hidden, I knew it couldn’t be a good sign. I’d missed her symptoms before the diagnosis, so I became hypervigilant about watching her for new ones.
“Yeah, Mom? Do you need something?” I sat down on the edge of the bed beside her.
She reached over and took my hand. “It’s time, baby.”
“Time for what, Mom?”
She was not saying what I thought she was saying. I wasn’t ready to lose her, to face life without her, to say goodbye—any of it.
“We have to decide what happens to Juliana. The treatments aren’t helping anymore. The cancer is spreading. It’s now a matter of time, and I’m choosing quality over quantity. I want to spend my last days making memories with my kids, not hunched over a toilet bowl before crawling back into bed again. It’s time to accept the inevitable.”
“No, Mom, you can’t give up now. We’re so close. My apps are almost ready to launch. I’ll be able to—”
“Rod, you’ve worked so hard day and night. You thought I didn’t notice you burning the midnight oil, but I saw everything. My health condition is not your responsibility or your fault, sweetheart. You couldn’t have prevented it or changed the outcome if you had a billion dollars. All the money in the world can’t save me now.
“We knew the cancer had already metastasized to my spleen when I started treatments. That means my bloodstream had already carried it all over my body. Maybe we would’ve caught it earlier if I’d recognized the random symptoms and gone to the doctor as soon as they started. But there’s no guarantee that would’ve changed anything. I’m sorry I didn’t give you a better childhood. If I could’ve shielded you from all this pain and grief, I gladly would’ve done it. No matter what happens in the coming days, remember I love you more than anything, baby.”
“No, Mom. Don’t you dare think like that. You gave me the best childhood. All my favorite memories are the times I’ve spent with you and Juliana. You taught me everything I know. I wouldn’t be the man I am today without you. We haven’t had it easy, but I wouldn’t trade anything for our life, and I couldn’t ask for a better mother. I love you so much, Mom.”
My face wet with tears, I leaned over and hugged her, ignoring the sensation of her ribs sticking out of her skin when my fingers skimmed over her shirt.
“Do you still want to keep Juliana with you?” she whispered in my ear during our embrace.
“Absolutely. No one else gets to torture my little sister but me.” I felt her chuckle against me, and I was relieved I brought her at least a little levity during such a terrible time.
“All right, baby. She overheard us talking about it before, so she made sure I knew she wanted to live with you, not your grandparents. If you’re sure, I’ll call the lawyer tomorrow and start the process right away.”
“You’re giving me guardianship right now?” Theory and reality are two completely different animals. Even after our conversation, I thought we had more time. I needed more time.
“Yes, baby. It’ll make the transition smoother when…”
“Don’t say it, Mom. Don’t even say the words. My birthday is coming up next week and Juliana’s is in a couple of months. You’ll celebrate both days with us.”
She pulled away from me, putting figurative and literal distance between herself and my belief. Before she turned her head to the side, I caught the wince that flashed across her pretty face along with her quivering bottom lip. Her devastated expression made my heart drop to my ankles. “Let’s just take it one day at a time.”
The week I turned twenty-one, Mom had her lawyer push the guardianship papers through the courts as quickly as possible. When I stood before the judge to answer questions about why I was petitioning for guardianship and how I planned to support us, it relieved me to find she was sympathetic to our plight. Turns out, had I not been exactly ten years older than Juliana, I couldn’t have taken legal custody of her.
If we’d waited those couple of months until Juliana’s birthday, I would’ve lost her too.
Mom knew long before I did.
Three weeks later, Juliana and I stood side-by-side, our heads bowed while tears flowed from our eyes like a Georgia flash flood. When her little hand slid against mine, I entwined my fingers with hers. She looked up at me, the light in her eyes dimmed by the tears that trickled onto her cheeks.
“What happens now, Rod?” Her chin quivered as much as her little voice. “Will we always be this sad?”
“No, little bird. We’ll have all blue skies from now on. Just wait and see.” I had to give her hope. She was too young to lose her faith in humanity, her belief there was good left in the world, and her childlike innocence. Life has a way of making us grow up all too soon. But I would’ve walked through hell alone to defend Juliana from reality for a while longer.
We said goodbye to Mom for the last time, then went home to a quiet house. The kitchen was full of casseroles and desserts from Mom’s coworkers—enough to freeze and last for weeks. They’d also taken up a donation for us, though I hated accepting charity from anyone. But when I saw their faces, I realized they loved her too, and offering the financial help was their way of honoring her. The gesture was as important to them as
