I was 15 when we got the news.
Cancer.
Terminal.
The doctors were careful to explain it.
My mom doesn’t.
When we were alone, he took my hands.
“I’m not going to be able to accompany you on all the things I dreamed of, my love.
I started crying.
Don’t say that.
“Listen to me.
She wiped my tears.
“Maybe I can’t be physically. But that doesn’t mean I can’t leave you small parts of me for those days.
One of those “little parts” was a dress.
My prom dress.
There was still a long way to go, but Mom insisted on doing it herself.
He chose a very clear blue cloth.
“This color makes your eyes shine,” he said.
There were days when I barely had the strength to get up.
Still, he sat in front of his sewing machine.
I asked him to rest.
