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I had almost finished my salad when my phone rang; it was my mom. She’s been calling numerous times over the past couple of weeks to make sure I was still coming home, so I smiled as I answered it.
“Hi, Mom. And before you ask, yes, I’m still coming home. My flight leaves at seven-thirty tomorrow morning and nothing has changed.” But instead of hearing her boisterous laugh, there was just silence on the other end. “Mom, you there?”
She cleared her throat and sighed in a nasal tone that caused me to tense up in dread. “I’m here, sweetheart.”
My heart sank as I heard her muffled sobs on the line. My mother rarely cried, so whatever this was must have been gut-wrenching for her. Her cries grew even more distressing, and all I could do was listen until she’d hopefully calm down. I pressed the phone to my ear, my heart racing.
Panic clawed at my throat, making it hard to breathe. Quickly, I flung my purse over my shoulder and dumped the rest of my salad in the trash. Something was wrong; terribly wrong. I rushed out of the cafeteria, searching for a place to hide. The first supply closet I found was dark and musty with a sharp scent of disinfectant and cardboard boxes. It made me nauseous, but I didn’t care; anything was better than being surrounded by people who were oblivious to my pain.
“Come on, Mom, tell me what’s going on. Is it Dad?”
I begged for answers, desperation creeping into my voice. My mother hiccupped through her tears.
“No,” she said quietly.
I swallowed hard and closed my eyes tightly, afraid of what she would say next. Images of loved ones flashed before me. Grammy? No, please, no. I wasn’t even going to ask if it was her; I couldn’t. Jensen? It had been eleven years since we last spoke, but there wasn’t a day that went by when I didn’t think of him. If anything happened to him, I’d never forgive myself for never returning his calls, for being an idiot and letting fear take over.
“Is it Jensen?” I whispered shakily.
“No, honey,” she replied softly.
Relief flooded through me like a balm, but it was short-lived. There was only one person left it could be. My throat constricted, and I sucked in a shallow breath. Tears stung my eyes, and I leaned heavily against the closet door.
“Is it Grammy?” I whispered.
She was my last living grandparent, and she was like a second mom to me—the one who knew all of my hopes and dreams, fears and secrets that no one else did. In my heart, I wanted to believe she was invincible, that nothing bad could ever come close to touching her. But deep down in the depths of my soul, I knew death lurked around every corner.
My mother let out a gut-wrenching sob. “She’s gone, sweetheart,” she said between cries. “I couldn’t get hold of her this morning, so I went to her house. I found her sitting in the chair in her room with a book in her lap. She passed away sometime during the night.”
I gasped, my hand clutching at my chest where I could feel the heart-shaped locket my grandmother gave me for my sixteenth birthday. A searing pain spread through me like flames licking a dry field. I tried to suck in air, but it was as if I was drowning deep beneath the ocean’s surface.
My knees buckled and I crumpled down to the floor. Everything around me became distorted, twisted, and darkened until there was only agony left. The fear of losing my grandmother had always been my greatest terror, and now I was living through it.
A low, keening wail rose from the depths of my soul; no words, just raw grief. There were no miracles or happy endings here—just an ending that shattered all that came before it.
My voice barely rose above a hoarse whisper when I finally found words. “What are we going to do?”
My mother swallowed audibly before speaking, her voice gentle yet fragile with emotion. “I don’t know yet, sweetheart.”
Tears blurred my vision as rage flared within me. “Why did you wait all day to tell me? I could’ve caught a flight earlier to be with you.”
It hurt to think of her being alone in this moment of utter devastation. She had my father, but there was a special bond between mother and daughter. My mom’s voice shook with sorrow.
“I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t want you to have to worry.”
The world kept spinning on its axis even though everything within me had crumbled away into nothingness. As much as I had witnessed death over the years in my profession, nothing had prepared me for this—for losing my grandmother—for watching my mother lose her own mother.
My breaths came in ragged gasps, and I clutched at my chest once more as the agony ebbed and flowed like waves crashing against a rocky shore.
“I knew you had surgeries today, Everleigh,” my mother murmured. “Your head needed to be clear.”
I didn’t know what to say or think, but I knew I would’ve left everything behind if my family needed me. Family was important. My mother was the backbone of the family, but my grandmother was the heart and soul. Without that, nothing was ever going to be the same.
She cleared her throat again. “Everleigh, are you okay?”
Tears burned my cheeks. Usually, I was strong and nothing could get me down. My skin was thick. It had to be in order to be a doctor. During my residency, patients yelled at me, threw things at my head, and even threatened my life if I didn’t help them. It was something I knew could happen, but also something I was prepared for. Never once have I regretted my choice to be a doctor.I could work a double shift and still have the energy to go for a run. My whole career had been dedicated to taking care of others and making them better. That was why I coerced my grandmother to take the summer-long trip to the Caribbean. I knew it was way past due and something she had wanted to do for years.
Now it was too late.
