Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
DANI
Four Years Later
Sighing, I rise from my chair in the auditorium that has been my world for the last four years.
I glance around one last time, committing the familiar rows and faces in them to memory, before picking up my test and making my way to the front of the class.
I pause for a moment, letting the weight of my accomplishment settle in, savoring this fleeting victory.
Although I wasn’t able to attend Dartmouth, I did my best under the circumstances.
Soon, I will become a registered nurse upon completing my boards, and I am excited about this new career path.
Working as a technician in the emergency department has allowed me to learn on the job and has prepared me for the next step in my career.
It gives me the chance to give back and advocate for patients like my mom or those who seek care because they don’t have a primary care doctor and lack the financial means to access better healthcare.
My lip twitches as I place my paper face down on the desk for the last time at this school.
I walk out feeling lighter than I have in weeks.
Taking long strides, I push open the door and make my way toward my car in the crowded parking lot.
Our class will hold a ceremony for those who passed the nursing program, and then it’s on to the boards, where I’ll earn my RN license and move beyond my patient care tech pay.
I am beyond excited and more than ready to make it happen.
I open the door, place my tote on the passenger seat, and retrieve my phone, which I then power on.
As I start the car, a flood of messages and voicemail notifications pop up, forcing me to put the car back in park to see what’s going on.
When I see it’s the nursing aid who stays with my mom, calling repeatedly, my anxiety spikes. I call her back and rush home.
She answers on the second ring. “Angeline?” I don’t even wait for her response before my words tumble out.
“What happened? Is Mom okay?” My voice rises as I speed through traffic, my heart pounding as I rush to get to my mom.
Luckily, it’s still early, and the city hasn’t reached its late afternoon chaos yet, leaving the streets mercifully open.
“Dani,” she whispers into the phone, “your mom has taken a turn for the worse. When I couldn’t reach you, I called the hospice line. A nurse from Horizons Hospice is here now, waiting.” I gasp, the words slicing through me.
“I was finishing up my exam,” I say apologetically, my voice breaking at the poor excuse. “I didn’t know….my phone was off for the exam.”
“Dani. This isn’t your fault,” she replies, her tone comforting, yet firm, trying to break through my downward spiral. “It could have happened any time. We knew this was imminent. It is nothing short of a miracle that she has lasted this long.”
Of course, I know she’s right. But knowing doesn’t soften the blow. If this is true, then the moment I’ve been dreading has finally come.
“She is on the couch,” she continues cautiously, “and the nurse placed a Foley catheter to drain her bladder and make her comfortable.” My vision blurs at the onslaught of sudden tears. I let out a shaky breath as the inevitable reality I’ve tried to postpone finally arrives.
“Okay,” I manage to force out the following words.
“How long do I have?” I veer off the freeway, taking the next intersection too sharply, as I make a beeline for the apartment complex that has been our makeshift home since leaving our real one behind.
“Almost there,” I mutter into the phone, though the words feel more like a plea than a statement, as I wait for her response.
“She received some medication to make her comfortable, but I think it may be soon, so please hurry.” With that, I end the call.
Ten minutes later, I slam the car into park and sprint toward the apartment.
The door flies open, my bag slipping from my shoulder and hitting the floor as I rush to the couch.
And then I see her. My mom lies there so still, and the gravity of the situation crashes down on me.
This is it. I was given more time with her than I thought possible, but now the moment has come, and I don’t know if I am strong enough to let her go.
My knees hit the floor, and I clutch her hand in both of mine, making promises into the void to anyone that would answer, letting her stay just another day with me.
“Mom,” I murmur her name, afraid that it might be the last time I’ll ever call her that and hear her answer. My chest tightens with the ensuing silence, as I pray for her to answer. Then I feel her squeeze my hand as she slowly opens her eyes.
“Baby girl,” she says softly. I move in closer, straining to hear her near-silent voice as she speaks. “I waited as long as I could, Dani, and I’m so very tired.” Tears fall freely down my face as I stare at the person who gave me life, watching her lose the battle to keep her own.
“Mom, I’m here. You don’t have to wait any longer.
I know you’re tired…and you’ve been so brave and strong.
I love you so much.” I lean down to kiss her, and for the briefest moment, her lips curve into a slight smile.
I rest my head against her, listening to the beating of her heart and feeling the rising of her chest until both cease to function.
“No. No. No.” I rise from the spot, staring down at my mom’s still body, all life gone, now leaving only a shell.
The same body that I watched be ravaged by a cruel, unimaginable fate from the very beginning.
I collapse to the floor, crying for the only person who had ever truly loved me.
But that’s not entirely true. I have Vic, and maybe, just maybe, he still loves me.
Even if he isn’t a part of my life right now, I know without a doubt we will be together again.
My heart feels like it’s splitting in two, and I let myself feel every shred of it before forcing myself upright.
I wipe the tears from my cheeks, one at a time, standing there numb.
We had a plan in place for this moment. I called the funeral home to collect my mother’s body, and she will be cremated per her wishes.
We have no one to attend the service, as sad as that is, so I’ll honor her request and spread her ashes on the beach.
She loved the water and had an extensive collection of sand dollars, taking pride in the ones she found intact along the shoreline, unbroken despite the unrelenting waves.
Those, she said, were the strongest survivors and deserved to be preserved and cherished like a trophy, on display for all to see.
The funeral company called to tell me her ashes were ready.
I went without hesitation, carrying them with me toward the coast, toward Galveston.
The seawall rises before me, the Gulf waters and sky blur into one by the heavy, humid haze along the horizon.
I leave the car and step onto the sand. The wind tugs at my hair, salt in the air mingling with the salt of my own tears.
It’s fitting, I think, as the sting of grief pushes me forward, one step at a time, and leads me to her final resting place.
The sound of waves lapping against the jetties guides my steps until I reach the rocks that hug the water's edge.
There, with trembling hands, I draw out the small container that holds my mother.
From my bag, I remove her collection of sand dollars, carefully placing them one by one on the cool, damp sand and arranging them into a heart shape.
She always cherished these fragile little treasures. To her, they symbolized the delicate balance between life and death. These talismans of endurance stood as reminders that even in her final hours, strength could be found in what survives the storm.
At last, I open the canister. Ash spills into the heart of the shells.
Some rise, caught in the wind, while the tide carries away the rest. The sea reclaims the lifeless, sun-bleached skeletons and folds her ashes alongside them into the foamy spray.
And when the tide retreats, carrying away the last of her remains, I stand there staring at the place where her sand dollars and ashes were mere moments ago.
But now, there is no trace that she had ever been there at all.
Before leaving, I place the empty vessel in a barrel by the seawall, although my hands linger, unwilling to let it go.
Back in the car, I sit for a long time, listening to the cry of seagulls overhead and the steady beating of waves against the shore.
The day settles heavily over me, as I struggle to grasp the reality of all I have lost. Before shifting into drive, I vow, with all I have left to give, never again to take love for granted, no matter how brief, because its worth lies in all the fragile pieces.
And no matter how beaten and battered by the storm, you still make it out whole.