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There might be no adequate words to describe this pain, an excruciating agony that tears you apart, a heavy burden on your heart, and an unceasing stream of tears for the dear one who is no longer with you. Time seemed to drag on, and this anguish, no matter what others claim, refused to pass quickly.
Every morning for the past week, I would wake up with the belief that she was still in her room, sipping her tea and waiting for my calls. Then, the harsh reality would crash down upon me, and I’d realize it was just a lingering dream. A cold despair would wash over me, leaving me feeling utterly empty inside. My mother’s death was an incredibly sobering experience, the most devastating event in my life.
The memory of my mother will follow me wherever I go, no matter how far I roam. My dreams will always carry the gentle scent of her perfume and the echo of her laughter. She was there to show me how much she cared, there when I took my first steps, teaching me to smile and laugh. My mother listened patiently to all my fears and nightmares. She shielded my heart and soul with her nurturing love. Her eyes were tender, filled with understanding, when she looked at others. Through all my struggles, she was the one constant in my life, and now that she’s gone, life doesn’t seem worth living.
Every day, I woke up in tears, as if it were that painful and unexpected Thursday evening. I desperately tried to forget, living in denial of what had happened. I refused to talk about it, even ghosting those who asked about my feelings. It felt as though a part of me had died with her. Losing my mom meant losing my life, and the person I wanted to live for had hurt me deeply by not revealing what I deserved to know.
After her passing, something changed in me, and darkness filled the void where love once resided. I had always known, deep down, that one day she would be gone, but I never expected it to be so soon. I couldn’t come to terms with her death. I was left with countless questions, wondering if I could have spent more time with her, be a better daughter, and understand her struggles more. I felt anger building up over even the smallest of things. I wondered how I would survive without her presence, and if I had one wish, it would be for a few more hours with her.
My grief led to melancholy, bottles of vodka, and dozens of painkillers, turning nights into endless days. I isolated myself from friends because I felt so cold and pushed everyone away because they weren’t my mother and, in my eyes, they had betrayed me. If only death could be reversed, but it’s inevitable. My mother’s passing became a haunting presence in my life, and my restless nights were filled with her image.
I missed my graduation, hadn’t talked to my best friends, and hadn’t spoken to Dillon. He visited my door daily, bringing crimson flowers and food, but I never once opened it to see him. Nothing was the same, and I felt numb all around. I didn’t get to say goodbye or tell my mother how much I loved her. She didn’t get to live, and I blamed myself for not noticing things sooner.
There was an emptiness in my soul, but a significant part of it was because I missed Dillon. I needed him more than I cared to admit, and the fact that he had kept something as significant as my mother’s sickness from me hurt deeply. I could understand Ronan’s place because he’s doing what’s best for his patient but I couldn’t get Dillon’s place. I couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t tell me.
Doctor Green had called, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer. There was no one I could talk to that would make me feel better. The only person I felt I could turn to was Dillon, but my trust was shaken. What else was he keeping from me? But fuck it, I needed him, desperately.
“H-Hello,” I said on the phone.
“Azzaria,” he exclaimed, “Baby, I’ve been so worried about you. I can’t apologize en—” His pain was palpable, breaking my heart even further.
“I can’t talk over the phone; come to me.” The grief spoke through me, and my soul longed for him. I wanted to talk to him, to have him help me through this. No one knew me as he did, no one loved me like he did. Despite everything, I needed him by my side.
When I hung up the phone and stood up from the couch, I heard a knock at the door. His penthouse was at least thirty minutes away; there was no way he could have arrived so quickly. I rushed to the door, peered through the peephole, and there he was, with all the gifts he had sent. My trembling hands opened the door, and I nearly fell at the sight of him. He embraced me, and I finally felt safe, even though I knew I was far from okay.
“Baby, I’m so sorry for everything. I’m sorry for her passing and for keeping it from you,” he said, apologizing and holding me tighter.
“How did you get here so fast?” I asked.
“When I realized you weren’t responding, I moved into the room next door and checked on you every single day.” For the first time in days, the tears I shed weren’t of sadness.
I wondered how many tears were actually falling on my face. Tears made me feel powerless and weak, and I had spent so much time concealing them that they had become a part of me. I couldn’t think of what to say, but what managed to escape my lips was, “I love you.”
As I gazed at Dillon, my attention shifted to the box he had given me. “This is for you,” he said, handing it over. “But before you open it, I want to say something. I understand the betrayal you must feel, but it wasn’t my intention. When Ronan told me, you had been ghosting me for three days. He was devastated, especially since he had lost everyone he loved to cancer. His mom, his younger sister, and his grandparents were all taken by this disease. She needed treatment options too, and I paid for them. When your mother came for dinner, I confronted her about it, and she begged me not to tell you. She was afraid of your reaction and asked me not to tell you because she wanted to when she was ready. I shouldn’t have kept it from you, but I did, and for that, I’m sorry. The box contains my journal, or rather, copies of it. It’s filled with every entry I’ve made since I started keeping the journal, along with a recording of my conversation with your mother. We’ll figure things out together. I’ll help with funeral arrangements, but take your time with the box, and I’ll be here whenever you need me.” He placed a kiss on my forehead and headed to the bedroom.
For the next three hours, I immersed myself in Dillon’s journal. My heart shattered with every page. I had never been so heartbroken in my life. To witness the depth of his suffering, to read his words of love and pain, was almost unbearable.
The lines he wrote about me, his initial reluctance to fall in love, and the painstaking observations of my quirks and behaviors filled the pages with beauty. I was grateful for the privilege of reading his innermost thoughts.
I put on the headphones and listened to the tape he had given me. I didn’t know what to expect, but I was prepared for more tears.
“How are you?” I heard him say. His voice was always strong, but it must have been a terrifying moment for my mother.
“I’m good. I have…” Hearing her voice again was like a wound being reopened.
“I know you’re sick, Ms. Leann. How are you really?”
“Does she know? How do you know?” I could hear her sigh, her voice heavy with emotion.
“Azzaria doesn’t know, but I do. Who do you think has been covering the cost of your treatments? But why haven’t you told her?”
“I appreciate your help, but why would you do that?”
“I know the pain of losing someone you’ve loved your whole life. It’s a harsh feeling, and you’re the only parent Azzaria has. If she loses you, she’ll crumble. So paying for your treatments was the least I could do. Your doctor, Dr. Romano, is my best friend, and he shared his concern. It had nothing to do with breaching confidentiality, but the auditors would have cut off your treatment if he couldn’t find another source of payment.”
My thoughts went to Ronan, and I knew I needed to talk to him. Our last interaction had been left unresolved, and I wanted to fix things.
She began to cry, her voice trembling. “I haven’t told her because it’s difficult. I’ve been her entire world for all these years, and I don’t want her to worry about me. I’ve lived a long life, and she’s only just started living. With all the pain she’s endured, losing her father and then Matthew, this would be too much. She’s never been as happy as she is with you and I don’t want to take it away from her.”
