The Sound of Forever

Chapter 50

Chapter Fifty

Julie,

The other day, while the nurse was taking care of me, you asked me if I was afraid.

I’m not afraid of dying. Death comes to you when it’s time, like an old friend you didn’t expect to see but somehow always knew would come. But there’s something I’ve never told anyone, a secret that’s been with me my whole life. My biggest fear wasn’t death—it was not being a good mother. Not giving enough.

Elena was a difficult child. Gustavo always said I spoiled her, that overcompensating for not having a father would only harm her in the end. Maybe he was right. I don’t know. Was it a mistake to give her everything I thought she deserved? I loved your father, Julie. But the truth is, I married him because I wanted a dad for Elena. I believed she needed a family with siblings, a mom and a dad.

I don’t regret our family, but now, as I lay here, I see the ripple effects of my choices. Elena struggles because I made life too soft for her, too forgiving. She feels entitled to everything, and I’m afraid I’ve done her a disservice. I worry that when I’m gone, she won’t know how to stand on her own two feet.

But you, Julie—you’re different. I’m not afraid to leave you or Oscar. You’re capable. Watching you grow into the woman you are has been the greatest reassurance. You’re kind, selfless, and resilient in ways I never had to teach you because it’s simply who you are.

And yet, I see the worry in your eyes when you think I’m not looking. You wonder if you’ll be okay without me, don’t you? I want you to know something, Julie. You will be okay. Not because you have to be, but because it’s in your nature to rise. Even when it hurts, even when it feels like you can’t.

I know you’ll miss me. I know there will be nights when the grief feels unbearable, and you’ll question if you can do it without me. But in those moments, remember this: You are my heart, my pride, my light. Everything good in me lives on in you. You’ll hear my voice in the quiet moments, feel my hand in yours when you need it most.

And Julie, promise me one thing. When the pain comes, let it come. Cry if you need to. Break if you have to. But then . . . let the love I gave you stitch you back together. That’s what love does—it heals, even when we think nothing can.

I love you more than words, my Julie. Always.

Mom