“Did you check with Lila?” Mom closed the door and helped Franz wiggle his backpack off his back. “Hi, sweetie.” She kissed him on his head.
I chuckled. “No. I didn’t see if the governor’s wife had time to babysit today. I don’t see Lila that much anymore. We chat for maybe ten minutes on the phone each week, and I send her pictures of the kids, but other than that …”
“Life changes.” Mom gave me a knowing, sad smile.
“It does.” I slipped off my shoes and lugged Anya’s car seat into the living room while Franz shuffled down the hallway to the spare bedroom that doubled as a toy room for him.
“Hey, honey.”
I turned toward Dad’s voice as he came around the corner from the kitchen. He handed me a cup of tea.
“You’re here.” I took the tea. “Now, I feel like you’re both ganging up on me. Is this an intervention? I know … I could use a haircut, and my house is a disaster.”
“No intervention.” Dad took a seat on the sofa next to Mom as I sat in the oversized chair with Anya’s seat on the floor next to me, gently rocking her to keep her napping as long as possible.
“What’s up?”
“The cancer is back,” Dad said, reaching over to take Mom’s hand, giving it a squeeze.
I shook my head. “What? No … I mean, how can that be right? Your tests and scans have been clear.”
“That was six months ago.” Mom put on a brave face even though her knuckles were white from clenching Dad’s hand so tightly.
“So …” I focused on Anya. Young and innocent. She represented life. I needed some life in my life at that moment. “Six months. It can’t be that bad. What are we talking? Surgery? Some radiation?”
“It metastasized to my brain. I had some symptoms, but nothing that felt that alarming since everything did seem fine after my last checkup. But honestly, we wonder if they missed something at that checkup.”
“Symptoms?” I asked.
“Headaches that would sometimes make me nauseous. Memory issues that I just attributed to aging. Dizziness that I thought was from the headaches. But last week I had a seizure.”
“What? How am I just now finding out about this?”
“Because once we found out what had caused the seizure and other symptoms, we had some choices to make. And they’re not easy choices.” Mom talked about her cancer like it wasn’t hers. She had always acted like it was happening to someone else. Always so matter-of-fact.
“Treatment choices?”
They nodded.
“So what’s the game plan? I can see if Ling and Victor will come help with the kids so I can be here for your treatments. Have you told Katie yet? She’ll want to fly out and stay for a while too.”
“We’re using money from your dad’s 401k and going to Italy.”
My head jerked back. “Before the treatment? Don’t they want to get started right away?”
Dad gave my mom a quick glance and blew out a slow breath. “Your mom doesn’t want to go through the treatment. It will only help with some of the symptoms. At best, it may give her six extra months. But in exchange, she’ll be sick from the chemo. Even her doctors feel the best option is to enjoy what time she has left with family.”
Emotion burned my eyes.
My mom … she was dying. Yet, my heart broke for my dad. His strength amazed me. How could life be so cruel to allow cancer to take both the women he chose to love in this life?
“What about experimental treatment? I can talk to Graham and—”
“Evelyn.” Mom rolled her lips together and shook her head. “It’s time. And I’m … I’m okay with it. I’ve spent the past week coming to terms with it.”
“Wow … okay, well …” I looked up at the ceiling while tears blurred my vision. “What if I’m not okay with it? What if I can’t come to terms with you giving up? Do my feelings not matter? Katie’s feelings? She won’t be okay with this at all.”
“We told her last night.” Dad leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “We called her. And she accepted the fact that it’s your mom’s decision. It’s her body. It’s her life.”
I grunted a breath, biting the corner of my lower lip and shaking my head. “I …” My voice cracked. “I don’t know h-how I’m s-supposed to live without you.” I fell apart.
My parents made their way to me, doing what parents did best—offering comfort in the face of grief.
Maybe Katie was okay because she didn’t understand like I did. I was a mom. I knew how special that bond was between a mother and a child. I knew firsthand what it was like to have another human need you for their own survival … their own existence. And I also knew that feeling never really disappeared. We never stopped needing our moms.