“She doesn’t have any brain function?” I ask, my voice breaking at the end.
“This is very common after a stroke. Her brain was without oxygen for too long. The doctors have been looking for any brain activity, any signs that she’ll recover, but as of this morning, there was nothing. I’m so sorry. The doctors have done all they can at this point. I can let you see her.”
The tears I was holding back break free, and I swallow down a sob as I bury my face into Zane’s side. He releases my hand and wraps his arms around me, holding me a little tighter. She’s gone. The one and only person I ever had is gone. Physically, she’s still here, but in the sense of her really being here, her spirit, she’s gone.
The nurse takes us to her room, and what I see when I step inside has the ground crumbling beneath my feet. My knees go weak, and I feel like I’m going to pass out.
Donna. My sweet mom has tubes going in and out of her body everywhere. Her body is so still she doesn’t even look alive, and in a way, I guess she isn’t.
“I’ll leave you alone for a bit,” the nurse says, dismissing herself. The room spins around me, and I press a hand to my forehead to steady myself.
“Are you okay?” Zane’s gravelly voice fills my ears. He turns me to face him, his hands circle my arms, holding me in place and blocking my view of Donna.
“She’s just…” A sob escapes my lips, and I press my face into his shirt, gripping onto the fabric. It’s like I’m losing everything.
“It’s okay. I told you this was going to be hard, and it is. But you should be allowed to say goodbye. She would want that.” I nod, blubbering into his shirt. I’m a mess, a complete mess. How will I survive this?
“I’m okay. I need to do this.” I speak out loud, even though the words are just for me. Zane nods and takes a step back, releasing me, though it seems it’s the last thing he wants to do. With him out of the way, I stand there for a long time, just staring at her. The woman who supported me when I felt hopeless. She nurtured and watered me, turned a wilted rose into a woman. I was lost before her and found the instant we met. Now she’s leaving me again, and it feels like all those times I was left behind. Never the child picked. Forever alone.
Forcing my feet to move, I walk over to the side of the bed. I take her hand in mine. It’s cold and makes me shiver at the touch. Of course, she doesn’t react to my touch. She doesn’t squeeze my hand. Doesn’t even acknowledge that I’m there. The machines she’s hooked up to make her chest rise and fall.
Seeing her like this breaks my heart. I miss seeing the smile on her face and the twinkle of joy in her eyes every time I would come and visit her. Never did I think the last time I saw her awake and happy would actually be the final time I’d see her that way. I can’t stop the tears from falling as I stand there holding her hand. My shoulders drop, and I bite my lip to hold back a sob.
“I miss you already, and you aren’t even gone yet.” I wipe my face with the back of my hand. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there; that I’ve been so busy and haven’t been able to come and visit as much. I wish we had more time. That this didn’t happen.”
Sniffling, I continue. “I’m so thankful that you took me in and gave me a future. I’ve enjoyed every minute of being with you, and I am proud to call you my mom.”
Bending down, I brush the grey hairs from her forehead and press a gentle kiss there. When I pull away, I’m crying so hard I can barely see. It’s like I’m losing a piece of my soul, a piece of my upbringing.
“I’ve got you,” Zane whispers, his arms circling my waist. He pulls me back against her chest, and I turn in his arms, needing someone to hold onto.
22
We stay for another twenty minutes, and I hate every second of it. I hate seeing Dove hurt, and I hate that we are here,