Sometimes I wondered if that was the right thing to do.
Other times, I felt like I didn’t know what I was doing at all.
There were days when I moved through everything on instinct—showering him, helping him shave, assisting him with the simplest tasks, feeding him, making sure he was comfortable—like I had become a machine programmed to keep going no matter what.
And then there were moments when it all caught up to me.Was I doing enough? Was I doing this right?Could I be doing more?
I had never taken care of someone who was dying before.
And I was scared.
Helping him with everyday tasks became my new normal.
I asked Geeta to check on him every hour when he was asleep, just to make sure he was okay. I returned home every two to three hours, no matter where I was, making sure he was fed, cleaned, and not alone for too long.
Emma was too young to understand any of it.To her, everything still felt the same.
I was grateful for that.
Grateful that Geeta was there to keep her occupied, to shield her from something she didn’t need to carry yet.
Lucas, however, was different.
He understood more than I wanted him to.
He had become quieter. More observant. More careful with his words, as if he was trying to protect me the same way I was trying to protect him.
One night, as I tucked him into bed, he looked up at me with eyes that held too much for a child his age.
“Why does everyone keep leaving us, Mama?” he asked.
“What do you mean, sweetheart?” I asked.
“First Harper,” he said slowly, “though I don’t remember him much. Then Caleb… and now Cole.”
My emotions surged. I forced myself to stay calm, to be strong for him, even though everything inside me was unravelling.
“Sometimes,” I began softly, choosing each word carefully, “situations happen in life that we as humans have no control over.”
I brushed his hair back gently.
“That doesn’t mean we give up or blame anyone. It means we stay strong, we keep moving forward, and we live the best way we can… even when it’s hard. And we never forget to be kind, to love, and to help others along the way.”
His eyes filled with tears.“I’m scared about Dad leaving us soon,” he whispered. “He seems to be getting sicker each day.”
My chest tightened painfully.
“I know, baby,” I said, pulling him into my arms and wiping his tears. “I’m scared too.”I held him a little tighter.“But right now, we need to be there for him,” I continued softly. “We need to be his strength, and we need to help him as much as we can. Can you do that for me?”
He nodded against me.
I kissed his head and held him close, knowing how much this was going to hurt him.
Knowing that he was about to lose another man in his life.
A man he had finally calledDad.
A knockon the bedroom door one evening made Cole and me turn toward it, the soft sound cutting through the quiet between us.
