Page 89 of Make It Without You

My phone buzzes with an incoming call from Adam.

“Hi,” I answer.

“What’s wrong?” I hear the concern in his voice.

I step away from the crowd but still keep an eye on the luggage carousel. “It’s Gloria. My mom told me she has cancer and it’s terminal. She’s in the hospital. And I,” my voice squeaks out. “And I don’t know how to say goodbye to my childhood. To the last person who saw me when all I wanted was to be seen.”

The truth is she’s my last honest connection to James. She was there as we grew up and fell in love. Gloria was there for every milestone and she was equally devastated when he passed away. He was another grandchild to her and I could never try to understand the beautiful bond they had.

“Do you want me to fly out there?” Adam asks. And it’s sweet of him to ask.

“No, baby. You don’t have to. Being back here is hard enough for me. Plus I don’t want this to be the first time you’re meeting my family.”

“Okay. Well, I can be on a flight whenever you need me.”

“Thank you, baby.” The signal for the luggage dropping sounds. “I have to get my luggage, but I’ll talk to you later. I love you, Adam.”

“I love you too, sunshine.”

I hang up and collect my bags. My mom must have had a car called for me here because there was one waiting for me at the curb.

“Thank you.”

Walkingthrough the hospital's sliding glass doors, I head for the reception desk to get Gloria’s room number, when my name is called out. Turning to the side, I see my dad by the elevator bay.

I rush over to him and fall into his embrace. Tears prickle the back of my throat, making it hard for me to swallow.

“Hi, pumpkin.”

“Hi, Daddy.”

He pulls back and presses the button to take us up on the elevator. My dad holds onto me as we enter the open car.

I have no clue what to expect. Gloria has been my grandmother in all the ways that counted since I was a kid. The bond we have. The love she so freely gave me.

When we get up to the sixth floor and turn to the left, I see my mom pacing in the hallway. My hands start sweating because I’ve never seen my mom act this way.

“Emily,” my mom greets me with a hug.

“Hi, Mom.”

“She’s in there.”

I look at the door nervously. But my mom wraps her arms around my shoulders. Resting her chin on top of my head.

“It’s okay to be scared, honey. It’s okay to be sad and angry.”

With a deep breath, I pull myself from my mom’s embrace and push through the door. And what I see breaks me down.

Gloria is lying in a hospital bed that’s three times too big. Her body frail and pale as she stares out the window. When the door shuts, her attention shifts to me.

“Come here, my sweet girl.”

I go to her instantly and climb onto the bed next to her. Settling into the bed, I wrap my arms around her waist and she runs her hands down my hair.

“Don’t cry.”

“You can’t leave me. I’m not ready to say goodbye to you.” I cry out.

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